Duty and Desire
by Dark Seroph
Summary: Some years after the Blight a lone Templar finds himself chasing the tail of a guild of assassins that recruit blood mages and abominations alike to their fold. Balancing his duties as a Templar and his own personal sense of justice, he fights as a single warrior through the grey area between blind faith and reckless abandonment. -HoH Universe, recommended to read but Not Required-
1. Den of Desire

_Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls._

_From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._

_Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you._

_In my arms lies Eternity_

Andraste 14:11

* * *

The dilapidated building had seen its better days a long time ago. Out on top of the rolling hills and cliffs surrounding Lake Calenhad, the once-proud three-story structure held a commanding view of not only the lake, but also the sleepy town surrounding Redcliffe castle. The Templar standing just outside the ruined house took no notice of the scenic view. He was not here on tour. He was here to exterminate.

With dual swords drawn, the plate and leather clad Templar kicked in the rotting door and immediately unleashed a powerful smite that shook the rafters. Cries of dismay, anger and fear rose from the den and those inside scrambled to recover themselves after the startle of the sudden intrusion.

The Templar did not hesitate to lay open the neck of a man unfortunate enough to be close at hand. Blood sprayed across the front of his armor and slotted helmet, and the man fell to the ground in a gurgling heap.

Immediately the attack of several mages assaulted the Templar, the den of maleficar awakening to their senses. Muttering a long stream of the Chant of Light to keep his mind free of the clawing fingers of the mind control, the Templar spun around with his swords leading and lay open the chest of another mage who died screaming.

Fire erupted from one of the mages, nearly searing the Templar in his armor and broiling him alive. A wash of anti-magic stopped the flames at their source, and another caster joined the bodies on the floor.

The last mage left standing screamed in denial, digging a short blade into the underside of her arm. The room flooded with the heavy weight of the blood magic and it became hard for the Templar to even move. The mage crowed in triumph, seizing the moment and struggled to control the Templar's very blood and boil the man alive with his own fluids.

"_I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me!"_ The Templar shouted, and power burst from him in a wave of energy. The mage clutched her wounded arm to her chest, screaming and fell to her knees, spitting curses the whole while. The Templar straightened, reciting verses under his breath and without pause thrust his left blade into the woman's chest, using his right to slice cleanly through her neck, her head rolling to the floor.

Turning toward the only other exit out of the room, the Templar continued further into the dilapidated building, holding his sword out in front of him, ready to leap to the attack at a second's notice.

The distinct tang of magic filled the air the further in he went until the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end with the unpleasant feeling. No one jumped out to try and test their luck against him, and eventually he found himself in a long hall with only one door. Beyond it he could hear the cries of a woman bordering on screams of torment and those of ecstasy, breaking the silence that had fallen in the hall.

Unsure what he was about to walk in on, the Templar pushed the door open quietly with caution. Instantly the magic suffusing the air shifted, becoming more intense, flowing from an indistinct unpleasant sensation to one that was heavy with the promises of carnal pleasure and streaked with the eddies of desire. The smell of sweat and sex followed the currents of the magic, tinged with the burn of ozone and the pungent scent of incense.

The origin of the screaming and moaning was in the center of the room on a bed that seemed to be the only furniture in the space. A woman writhed against the sheets, her body glistening with sweat and her arms stained red with a thick layer of recently dried blood. The insides of her thighs were slick with sweat and arousal, her neck and breasts colored with splotches of red from the mouth of an overzealous lover. Suddenly a spell rocketed out of seemingly nowhere, splashing against the Templar's armor and sent him staggering backwards. A man, obviously the woman's partner if his lack of clothes was any indicator, had come from behind the door and was applying a steady mental assault against the Templar.

He rallied his strength, the potent combination of the room's heady atmosphere and this new opponent's obvious skill going a long way toward collapsing the Templar's considerable mental resistance. He tried to take a step forward, only managing an uncoordinated jerk toward the mage and cursed, the word muffled by his helmet.

"I don't know how you got up here, dog." The mage hissed, striding forward toward the Templar and lifted his hands. "But this ends here."

"_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."_ The hold on his body relaxed, the effects of the spell withering. A flash of pain rent through him the instant he forced the spell's release, and the Templar coughed out a mouthful of blood as he swung his sword up, splitting the mage's side from hip to opposite shoulder.

The mage's eyes went wide with pain; the sudden spurt of blood erupting from the wound coloring the front of the Templar's already splattered armor. He staggered backward a step but not near fast enough to avoid the second sword impaling him through the chest.

Gasping for air, the Templar ripped off his helmet as soon as the mage collapsed on the floor dead, revealing close-cropped sandy brown hair and a pair of warm brown eyes narrowed in pain. Blood flecked his lips and teeth, coating the inside of his face guard. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, the Templar bent over and coughed violently, a mouthful of blood joining the puddle on the floor and he spit once the fit was over, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Damn blood mages."

The immediate threat dealt with, he turned his gaze to the woman on the bed, who had seemingly watched the whole event with little interest. Her body was flushed, and she showed no embarrassment at being laid completely bare before him. Her gaze settled on his face, red lips full and curling into a seductive smile. The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly, and the Templar dropped his helmet from loose fingers, drawn in by the overwhelming pull of primal need.

"What is it you desire most, Templar?" She asked, her voice breathy, seductive, a tingle of sound against his ears laced with the potent temptation of desire and magic. The woman sat back on the bed, her eyelids heavy, a look on her face that he recognized as a mage who had taken too much lyrium and was riding the magical high. Her hands traced the curves of her body, over the swell of her rounded hips, the dip of her waist, the peak of her breasts, her lips curving into a lusty smile. Mentally, he staggered under the pressure of the intense mind magic she wielded, and the lapse was enough for her to glimpse into his thoughts. The tangible fog of magic in the air intensified, and like a haze clearing with the rise of the morning sun, the templar suddenly found himself faced with an illusion of a blonde and brown haired woman with piercing blue eyes that he knew more intimately than his own. Seeing her lying there, sprawled out before him, naked and inviting was almost more than his willpower could fight against.

With an unsteady breath and a shaking hand, he took a step toward the bed, raising his blade. The mage only smiled. When the cold tip of the sword touched the center of her chest, she shivered with delight and sat up into the point of the blade, holding the flat sides of the blade between her palms. "Are you sure _this_ is the sword you want to pierce me with, Templar?" She asked, her hand sliding up the length of weapon, her fingers brushing over the hilt until she could lay her palm over the hand that guided the blade. The Templar felt the shiver of magic course through his arm and down his spine, pooling into a dull ache in his groin. The tip of his blade pressed against her flesh, drawing a drop of blood that ran from the vale of her breasts down to her navel.

"Yes!" She hissed, sitting up on her knees, a low moan sounding from the back of her throat and a second drop of blood joined the first. Her eyes shut in ecstasy, her hand gripping his gauntleted fist harder. "Do it, Templar." The mage whispered, arching her back so that her chest pressed more firmly against the point of the sword, her hands guiding the weapon toward her heart. "End me. Before the demon takes me."

The plea for help snapped what little sense there was back into his head, and suddenly the wash of magic beating at him became a secondary thing. Awareness returned, and the illusion of the woman that he had loved disappeared right before his eyes, replaced with the weary face of an entirely different woman in pain.

The Smite reverberated so strongly in the small confines of the room that the dust from the ceiling shook down on both of them. The woman cried out, falling back on the bed, her chest heaving as she struggled for breath and shivered violently. Sheathing his sword, the Templar closed his eyes and concentrated, his senses sharpening back to their razor's edge and the last of the haze of desire was washed away in a cleansing wave, the echoes of chanting and hauntingly beautiful music clinging to the aura of anti-magic.

Upon opening his eyes again, the room appeared as the rest of the building had: slightly dilapidated, ill kept, and dingy. For the first time, he noted that the headboard of the bed was outfitted with metal cuffs on chains, obviously well used if the state of the dried blood on their surface was any indication. With a rising sense of disgust, he saw correlating marks on the woman's wrists, evidence that she had been a prisoner not that long ago here. By the lack of any sort of permanent looking fixtures however, he concluded that this safe house was obviously not a permanent place of residence.

The woman on the bed writhed again, clutching at her hair and had broken out in a cold sweat, moaning out broken bits of words as she struggled against some inner torture. He wrapped the mage in the tattered blanket, the piece of cloth discolored with dried bodily fluids of every sort, but it would have to do for now. He had a feeling that most of it was probably hers anyway. There was precious little time to go hunting for something cleaner. The hardest part was about to begin.

With her arms tucked securely into the cocoon wrapped around her by her unlikely savior, the mage whimpered, turning her head from side to side and dampening the pillow instantly with her sweat. The Templar hovered nearby, waiting breathlessly. If her captors had given her too much lyrium, she would shortly die of the overdose in a bout of madness that could culminate in an intense magical flare, or turn her into an abomination. Either way, he was prepared for that outcome. If she were to survive the strong dose however, then the real trial would begin, and he would quickly have to decipher if the Desire she wielded held its power with demons, or other arcane knowledge. Only time would tell.

It was near an hour before the woman stopped tossing and turning, overcoming the initial rush of a near overdose of lyrium. The Templar did not relax any, however. He unwrapped the mage, convinced that at least now she would not be in danger of flinging herself off the bed in her pained state and wiped the sweat, blood and grime from her body. At first he thought that the undersides of her arms were a lost cause, but as he continued to clean the unconscious mage, he noticed that the long lines of blood was actually a single scar, one on the underside of each arm. Taking a long moment, the Templar looked over the singular deep wound that ran the length of the inside of her arm, from the bottom of her wrist to the crook of her arm. Printed over the center of the long gash were runic symbols that he vaguely recognized as being part of some kind of magical ritual, though what they meant, he did not know. At first he thought that they had just been dried on blood, but he quickly realized that the marks were not on her skin, but rather in it. Tattooed in her own blood most likely, in the same manner that the Dalish used on their faces.

After he'd had his fill of looking at the marks on the undersides of her arms, the stained blanket was discarded in a corner and forgotten, and a new one that was slightly cleaner was draped over the mage. Once that had been done, the Templar dragged the body of the most recently dead mage out into the hallway, pulled up a chair inside the door and waited quietly, resting his chin on the pommel of his sword and watched.

Near the whole night had elapsed when the mage finally woke from her stupor. At first she was unaware of her surroundings, simply staring at the ceiling without really seeing it in a daze. Eventually awareness came to her, and when she sat up to inspect the room only to find a fully armed Templar staring vigilantly at her, the mage squeaked and did her best to cover her nakedness.

"Who are you?" She asked in a sharp voice, clutching the sheet to her chest with her gaze riveted on the lone armor-clad man in the room. All traces of the earlier pull of desire were completely gone, replaced with fright and an impressive attempt bravado. "What do you want?"

He sat back in his chair and yawned, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You can call me Derik. What is your name?" He didn't bother pointing out that he'd already seen everything she had to hide. If the thin blanket made her feel more secure, then who was he to tell her to drop it?

She considered him for a long moment, tightening her grip on the blanket. "Neve." The mage finally confided after a while, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"Neve. Well, nice to actually meet you in your right state of mind." Derik said in an off-handed sort of way that only served to confuse the mage. She was small for a human, almost elf-like in build and statue. The mage wore her hair long in tangled waves of blonde, and huge doe-like hazel eyes stared at him from a heart-shaped face. If she weren't so frightened, dirty, and dangerous, she would have been quite beautiful. But her time in captivity had wreaked havoc on her body, evident in the hollowness of her cheeks and her overall thinness. The skin around her eyes were sunk in too, a result of too little sleep and too much lyrium. "What can you tell me about the Midnight Tang?"

Neve stiffened, her eyes going wide as if just realizing some vitally important detail. "T-this is… You're in… How?!"

Derik remained quiet and let Neve settle down from her outburst before continuing. "It is my duty to seek out maleficar and end them." He supplied in a low voice. "From what information my sources gathered about the Midnight Tang, they have confirmed that the Tang uses mages with demonic powers in order to fulfill assassination contracts."

Neve's eyes dropped to the bed. "That is correct." She whispered in a rough voice, letting her hands drop slightly, revealing the curve of her breasts. "My sister… I came looking for her."

"Your sister was part of the Tang?" Derik asked, folding his hands over the cross guard of his blade casually.

Neve nodded, her eyes venturing up to meet Derik's again. "Leona was her name. She… died during the war… on assignment. I came looking before I'd heard… they captured me first and then this…" She lifted one of her hands, showing the red marks around her wrist, evidence of her forced capture.

The name Leona rang a bell in his mind, but at the moment he couldn't place the reference. "You are a hedge mage then?"

Again she nodded. "My mother was Chasind, my father was Fereldan. We lived north west of Gwaren… until the Horde…" She didn't have to finish the sentence. Many had suddenly found themselves without a place to return to in the wake of the Blight's destruction. Even three years after the slaying of the Archdemon, the country had not fully pulled itself back together. Too much had happened in too little a space of time for Ferelden to have recovered. Taking a small breath, Neve continued. "I was captured not long ago. They knew I was a mage, and so they…" With her wrist turned up to reveal the long scar overlaid with blood tattoos, she needed to say no more.

"Why?" Derik asked with an almost impulsiveness to his tone. "Why would they capture you and turn you into a blood mage?"

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Not just a blood mage. An abomination." Her whole body shuddered in revulsion, a pair of tears escaping her eyes and she hastily brushed them away with her fingers. "They didn't tell me much. All I remember is being held down while they cut the inside of my arms…" A flash of remembered pain crossed her face briefly. "But after that… The man who was with me, where is he now?"

"Dead." The Templar replied and watched Neve's reaction carefully.

If it weren't such a grim declaration, she would have smiled with relief. As it was, she spat on the ground angrily instead. "Good riddance. I don't know how he was doing it, but he was in my head and I could just… _See_ things. I don't really know how to explain it. It was like I just _knew_ and now…" Her eyes trailed toward the door, her tone dropping off distantly. "I know how to call upon desire. I don't know how I know, but I just do. Does that make any sense?"

Derik sat back in his chair slightly, eyeing Neve and contemplating her situation. "Not to me, it doesn't, but perhaps to another mage it would. I'll need to do something about you."

"Something?" Neve gulped, her eyes watering again, going wide with fear. "What is to become of me now?"

Derik leaned forward slightly in his chair. "You have two choices." He said in a calm voice. "I can bring you to the Circle of Magi." He noted immediately that she recoiled even from the mention of the place, not unexpected given that she had grown up free of the Chantry. "They will want to know what happened to you, and when they find out that you have been in a demonic ritual, they will probably enact the Rite of Tranquility upon you."

Her eyes went wide, panicked tears welling up and she hugged herself tightly. "I don't want that! Please…"

"The second option…" He continued in that same calm voice, "Is to put you in the hands of mages outside the Circle. I can't leave you to your own devices, especially since you are a blood mage now, willingly or otherwise. They'll keep an eye on you and make sure that you aren't a danger. To yourself, or anyone else."

The tears spilled over and she clutched her hands to her mouth, a loud sob leaving her. "B-but I can have my freedom back eventually, right? I didn't want any of this… I just wanted to find my sister-" A choked sob cut off whatever else she was going to say and Neve doubled over herself with trying to hold back the overflow of emotion.

Derik stood and moved to the side of the bed. Neve looked up at him with her huge eyes reddened by her tears and leaned away from him. With an infinite amount of compassion he put his hands on her shoulder and knelt so that they were at eye level. "Be strong, and you will get through this trial." He said gently, and the mage seemed to cling to his words like a life rope. "What has been done to you cannot be undone, it can only be dealt with. You have your two options."

She nodded, closing her eyes tightly and touched one of his hands. "I'll go with the mages. I can't… stand the thought of being Tranquil." Her whole body shivered and she seemed to withdraw into herself even more.

Derik drew his hands away and stood. "Then get some rest. I'll find something for you to wear, and in the morning we'll head to town and I'll get you set up with the Mages' Collective."

"The Mages' Collective?" Neve repeated in a timid voice.

"The free mages I will be leaving you with." Derik replied calmly. "It is a society of mages outside of the Circle's influence. Most members don't know each other. They can't afford to in the event that one is caught and interrogated for information. I know someone that will take you in and keep you safe for a while."

She nodded, simply processing the information and unable to say anything contrary to Derik's statement. "Thank you." For the first time she smiled, a small timid expression, but one of such sincerity that Derik couldn't help but to have some real hope for this girl's future.

* * *

Aaah, well, here we are, back in the Heirs of Honor universe. For those of you who _**haven't**_ read the story, it is not strictly necessary, but is recommended to read before this story. Derik is a minor character from Heirs of Honor, and now a main character of Duty and Desire. His character and personality provided me an opportunity to explore the duality of not only mages, but also the Collective, so I'll be doing that a bit with some adventure along the way. This is a more adult story, hence the M rating. Violence, strong language, sexual situations, etc. will be happening throughout, so be prepared! I hope that my returning readers enjoy this little continuation (it's not exactly a sequel) and that you new guys will like what I have to write.

Updating schedule will be sort of just happen when it happens. I write this on a shuttle ride to and from college on my iPod, so I do work on it for most of the week, but only in half hour stretches. The pacing of this story is going to be snappy, especially in the beginning. I don't plan for this to be an epic novel like Heirs of Honor was, but the story might surprise me. Anyway, thanks for reading this far! See you next update!


	2. Tempting Rage

_The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil_

_And grew jealous of the life_

_They could not feel, could not touch._

_In blackest envy were the demons born._

-Erudition 2:1

* * *

The forest set some travelers on edge, but to him it was almost like a second home. The Brecilian was old, and the trees that spiraled high into the sky reflected the ancientness of the forest. The trunks were thick and watched with age, some of the branches overhead thick as a city street. The distance between some of the ancient titans was enough to allow ten horses abreast at times. A gust of wind overhead sent a small wave of leaves floating to the ground, alighting on the mossy floor of the green woods.

Derik only enjoyed the scenery for a short moment however. It wasn't very often that he went to scenic places far off the beaten trail just for the pleasure of it, and this time was no exception either. Once again duty had called him to the trail of a manhunt that would most likely be resolved only after a great amount of bloodshed.

The woods were winding and treacherous, but he wasn't going into the heart of the forest where it was rumored that the monsters who ruled this primordial place lived. Derik wasn't equipped for a prolonged stay out in the wilderness. This was simply a seek and destroy mission, nothing more and nothing less. The quietness of the outer woods was almost haunting in it's absolute serenity. The further into the woods he went, the more his magic-sensitive soul could feel the thinning of the Veil.

If rumors and whispers could be believed, then a great battle had happened here so long ago as to be completely forgotten by modern records. The death of hundreds and thousands of men in battle thinned the Veil as nothing else could, such a grand catastrophic event serving to bring closer the realm of the dead and the living. It was for this very reason that the forest was a common haunt for mages looking to evade the long arm of chantry law. With the Fade and reality rubbing so close together, it made a mage's spells that much more powerful and more likely to summon the attention of demons.

The faint trail in the woods that he followed led deeper into the woods, but not into the heart. He wondered at that, but was resolved to not over-think the reasoning without undue need. He would find out shortly, most likely at the wrong end of a fireball.

It was nearing the twilight hour when he finally came upon his destination. The so far unbroken forest was interrupted by a plaza of sorts. Unable to grow on the solid stone slabs that lay buried in their long-forgotten resting places, the trees cleared a wide space in the center of which was a raised dais of sorts that had seen it's glory days hundreds of years ago.

In the middle of it all, and altar had been raised, made of wood and covered in a wealth of dried blood. In a circle around the altar, the evidence of seven small fires was inscribed against the surface of the stone, black soot leaving it's footprint where the fires had burned. A giant rune painted in what he assumed was blood connected the seven forest to the altar. He stepped onto the dais, his eyes flicking over the scene and examined it carefully. Obviously this had been a site of some sort of ritual, though what its purpose could have been, he didn't know. He had never seen this particular pattern that had been used before.

Just a few feet before he reached the altar the air in front of him wavered like a heat wave, creating a shimmering curtain. All the hair on the back of his arms and neck prickled uncomfortably and the weight of the magic in the area pressed solidly against him like a giant unseen hand.

Laughter echoed in his ears, a harsh male laugh and Derik swung around to try and find the source, his swords in his hands immediately. There was no one else in the clearing however, and a feeling of dread instantly washed over him.

"Are you scared?" The voice taunted in an obviously cocky drawl. "you shouldn't be. You should be angry. Who put you here? Why is it that you are continually risking your life?"

A sudden rush of anger swept through him like a tidal wave. "Mages."

"Mages." The voice agreed in a deadly hiss. "You work endlessly to protect them," the Templar nodded in agreement. "Yet how do they repay you? Again and again they simply turn to evil. You should be angry. You should be enraged! Toil away in obscurity no longer! We can change this cycle of ungratefulness."

"You think you could change the nature of mages?" Derik asked to the thin air, the tips of his swords hovering low toward the ground.

"Of course." The Voice replied nonchalantly. "They cannot turn against you if they are all dead."

Derik's scoff turned into a chuckle. "Well demon, you were making fine progress until that last bit." The voice hissed, the sound much like water was being poured on a hot pan. "The Veil must be on the verge of ripping if a demon is talking to _me_." He mused to himself quietly, eyes on the ripple in reality. "I don't suppose you could just slide on through, could you?"

"Do not taunt me, mortal!" The voice boomed so loudly that the stones of the dais vibrated under Derik's feet. "You trifle with powers beyond your ken!"

"So you can't then. Well, at least there's something to that." He mumbled to himself and sheathed his swords, pulling a small bag from one of the pouches on his hip instead. Carefully, he extracted a small chunk of white chalk that had been formed into a stick and began drawing on the ground around the altar in the center of the dais.

"What do you think you're doing, mortal?" The voice asked in a haughty tone. "Why is it that you continue to deny the anger that lays dwelling in your heart?"

Derik said nothing, just continued to draw with his chalk, looking at the runes painted in blood on the ground every once in a while. The voice continued whispering as he worked, digging deeper at the issue of Derik's faithful service to both the Order and the mages and how he could never satisfy both. When Derik finally straightened and patted his hands free of the dusty chalk, he was standing in the center of a magic circle that mirrored the one drawn in blood, tough was portrayed oppositely. He took a pinch of fine blue powder from the bag in his hand and placed the refined lyrium dust in the seven circles representing the fires that had been used in the larger blood circle.

"You cannot possibly attempt this, mortal." The voice hissed. "Not without my help. You have no magic, but I do. If it is your desire to repair the Veil, then let us make a deal and I shall see it done."

Derik did not even so much as lift his head. Instead, he continued to ignore the voice from the other side of the Veil and sat in the center of his circle, crossing his legs and dipped his head, rhythmically chanting to himself. Almost immediately, the small piles of lyrium around him began glowing a brilliant blue that was almost white in color. The circles and runes painted in blood began to glow as well with dark energy, the soft red light eerie in the stillness of the forest.

"You will fail, mortal." The voice hissed. "You are too weak, too flimsy. You could never accomplish this task on your own."

If Derik even heard the voice, he did not react and just kept chanting. The wavering in the space in front of him intensified, the vague form of a Rage demon appearing as if on the surface of a rippling lake. The demon lifted its hands, a roar sounding from the other side of the Veil that made the stones tremble again and the silence that fell afterwards ring like the chime of a bell. Great gouts of fire blasted toward Derik, but he did not even so much as flinch. Just as the stream of fire was about to touch the outer ring it dissipated into a quivering curtain of air. The Rage demon screamed in denial, the sound so piercing that blood dripped down the sides of Derik's face from his ears. Even so, he did not stop, he simply chanted louder.

The image of the Rage demon clarified, the rippling turning still as glass as if the demon were present in the physical world. Derik rose smoothly to his feet, drawing one of his swords. He was practically shouting in order to try and hear himself over his sudden deafness, the rage demon screeching even above that. Derik raised his sword, spoke the last words of the reversal spell and shattered the ripple in reality. With the crash of breaking glass and the sound of a fire being rained on in a sudden torrent, the demon disappeared along with the thinness of the Veil, leaving the Templar standing in front of nothing but empty air.

With the immediate danger gone he sheathed his sword and touched the rivulet of blood that had come from his burst eardrum. Sighing a mild curse, Derik slipped a bag off his back and started sorting through the contents. He came up with a small hand rag and a bottle of red healing liquid. Sitting once more, he tipped his head sideways and winced as he shook a few drops from the bottle into his ear, working his jaw back and forth with a curl of smoke issuing from the healing wound. When it was done smoking he did the same to the other ear and then wiped the blood from his face and neck as much as he could with the small rag. Task completed, he stuffed the two items away and stood once more to inspect the altar.

Though there was a tremendous amount of dried blood, there was no body on the altar. Curious, he checked the fire pits for disassembled body parts but fond none there either. "How could the victim have survived?" He mumbled to himself and walked back to the altar to see if he could dig up any clues. He did not know maleficar to be particularly respectful of their sacrifices, at least not enough to bury or burn them properly. The small ritual fires around the runic ring would not have been hot enough to char bones into ash. Even if sustained by magefire it would take more of a concentrated effort than he had ever experienced maleficar to have.

Derik inspected the site for a while longer, jotting down the notes in a small journal, noting down the shape of the arcane circle. By the time that he was done it was fully dark in the forest. He walked away from the stone dais and the runes, snapping off a thick tree branch when he got close to the forest's edge and started carving another wide circle in the dirt, kicking away stray rocks that got in the way. When all was said and done, Derik had enclosed himself in a ward and set up camp to protect from the monsters of both reality and the Fade. Here in the Brecilian, both could quickly become fatal foes to a lone sleeping Templar.

Under the silent skies with the stars that peaked through gently swaying branches, Derik slept, his thoughts uneasy and his sword laying close.

* * *

Yay! Solo Derik chapter! It's a little short, but ah well. Just setting up some stuff and having a bit of fun showing off Derik's intense Templarness. He's been working on his own against magical maladies for a long time, and I wanted to show how he handled demonic temptation. Which is by ignoring it. Although he's not completely infallible, and taken unawares as he was, he still had to struggle a bit against the temptation. A bit of character development makes the world go 'round. Also, please excuse any typos that I might have missed. I don't have an editor, and it's frighteningly easy to overlook really small details that you guys would naturally catch on the first read through. Anyway, thanks for dropping in! The next chapter is going to be monstrously huge, so I hope you'll enjoy it.


	3. Denerim Dogs

"You're sure she's safe?"

Derik looked briefly to the woman that he'd brought along with him to Redcliffe from the den of assassins, cloaked now in a heavy cape and an oversized men's shirt. She appeared so small and fragile, swimming in clothes that were made for someone far larger than she. But the girl mustered what little courage she had and stood straight, watching the goings on through her huge hazel eyes, quietly awaiting her fate. "As safe as any blood mage. You know that, Mina."

The young woman he was talking to glanced at Neve as well, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Alright, I'll trust you, Derik. I'll see that my father treats her well."

"Thank you, Mina. That's all I ask." Derik replied with a gentle smile and an incline of his head.

Mina blushed, making the freckles across the bridge of her nose disappear and subconsciously twirling a lock of her curly orange hair around her finger. "We're heading to Denerim next. Be careful going to the Bracilian, will you? I don't know what it is, but whenever we pass by it I just always feel…"

"Uneasy?" Derik supplied and Mina nodded in confirmation. "I will be careful. I wish you a safe journey as well."

She smiled, her heart in her eyes when she did so in a way that only young girls in love could do. "Thank you. I hope that you look us up in Denerim."

"If I make it that far, I certainly will." Derik replied and gave the young woman a brief hug, which she returned gladly. Neve watched the scene unfold, twisting her fingers together.

Mina sent a smile her way and tapped Derik's solid chest plate with her knuckles. "You go defend the realm, Ser Templar."

He smiled at the jest. "I always do."

* * *

_And then the Maker sealed the gates  
Of the Golden City  
And there, He dwelled, waiting  
To see the wonders  
His children would create._

Thernodies 5:8

* * *

When he arrived in Denerim, he was more than relieved to see life going on as normal. After spending days on the road and in the forest in utter solitude, just hearing the chatter of voices was enough to lift his spirits. A bed and a roof awaited him in the Chantry, and though it was only just after noon, Derik's most recent adventures had taken their toll on him.

The marketplace was a hive of activity, the bustle of people under the clear Ferelden skies a welcome sight after miles of uninterrupted forest. He stopped just outside of the Chantry's curtain wall and stood, simply watching the interaction of the locals amongst one another. After a trying journey, it was always a relief to stop and just absorb the moments of peace that were all too rare in his line of work. After a few moments of simply loitering, he had begun to attract some attention and so decided that it might be best to move on.

The lay sisters in the front gardens tending the spring seedlings nodded respectfully as he passed. The two Templars guarding the front doors called a short friendly greeting that he replied with in kind before entering the atrium of the Chantry.

The wide front reception hall was decorated on either side with a statue of Andraste with her hands clasped together in prayer, head bowed slightly in reverence of the Maker. The old wood had been darkened and polished by age and hundreds of hands of young initiates over the years, the thick beams overhead portraying the rise of Holy Andraste and her victories over the Magisters of the Tevinter Imperum. The motifs continued along the entire Chantry, spilling out into the nave and running along the walls over stained glass windows that let colored light into the huge space. In the main cathedral, lines of pews sat underneath the careful watch of the stained glass figures and motifs carved on the walls, wary of those who might dose during prayer.

The whole story of Andraste culminated with a larger than life statue of Andraste at the end of the nave, a pulpit in front from which the Grand Cleric spoke during sermons. In this depiction her hands were upraised toward the ceiling, her face raised to the sky and the Maker with a serenely beautiful expression. The bottom of the statue was carved into whorls of fire that licked their way up the body of the statue, the tips of the highest flames reaching only her waist. The entire thing was plated in gold leaf and reflected the light of the hundreds of candles at the statue's feet when they were lit. However, as today was not one of the sermon days, the candles were unlit and the space was only dimly illuminated by what light came through the stained glass windows and a few lanterns hung at the end of the rows of pews in the aisles.

Derik walked straight up the nave and around the pulpit, taking a knee directly in front of the statue of Andraste and bowed his head. "Merciful Maker, I thank you for another day that I might serve Your will, and for guiding my blade and my heart. May Your will forever be evident in the path I walk, and your hand in all I do."

"You always said such lovely prayers."

Derik raised his head, looking over his shoulder at an elderly woman in the robes of the Grand Cleric. He bowed his head again out of respect as she came to his side, the material of her robes shifting gently. "Rise, my child."

He did as he was bid and clapped a hand over his heart. "Grand Cleric Elemena. It is good to see you again."

"It has been a while, has it not?" Her smile deepened the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, a reminder of how many years she had behind her. She started walking, fully expecting Derik to keep pace at her side. "How has the road treated you, Ser Derik? It seems that your duties only continue to increase as the years roll by. I hardly ever see you at sermons these days."

He inclined his head slightly. "It is true that my duty calls me away often and far away. But the job suits me. I can do no other than the Maker's work."

"Indeed." The Grand Cleric replied with another smile. "I have heard what the others have been calling you, my child. The Blood Hound. Such a frightening name for one of the Maker's faithful."

A ghost of a smile twitched up the corners of Derik's mouth briefly. "The only ones who need fear that name are those that turn their back to the Maker. If my brothers in arms wish to call me a blood hound, then I will simply take it as a compliment to my aptitude, your grace."

Elemena laughed briefly, a sound like rustling paper and quills brushing against one another. "It is a good thing you joined the Templar Order, Derik, else I fear that silver tongue of yours would have the entire country hanging by your lips."

"The Maker puts us where our talents are most useful." He replied with a simple shrug. They had walked to the side of the grand cathedral and were nearing the quarters for the Templars and lay sisters stationed at the Denerim Chantry.

"He does at that." The two walked in silence for a moment before the Grand Cleric spoke again. "You have performed your duties as a lone man since being promoted from Knight-Corporal to Lieutenant, have you not?"

"I have, Your Grace." Derik agreed readily with a small dip of his head.

"Therein lies the issue, I'm afraid." She sighed heavily, and continued when Derik shot her a concerned look. "There have been horrible rumors about lately. I fear that it is simply too dangerous for you to continue to work alone."

"Grand Cleric, if I may, partnering with someone would only slow me down at this point." He said in the most respectfully argumentative tone he could muster and had to wonder where this was coming from.

The Grand Cleric paused, folding her hands in front of her and pinned Derik with a mild look. "That was precisely the argument that Knight-Captain Quinn used. However, we cannot ignore the fact that you come into contact with maleficar on a frighteningly frequent basis. You must understand that I simply worry for you."

He could read the subtext simply enough. She was afraid that he may become a thrall of mind control, or perhaps had already fallen from grace. Restraining a cutting retort, Derik dipped his head in a small bow. "My service is, of course, to the Chantry. If it should be decided that my duties are too dangerous for a single man, I will have no choice but to comply and will do so gladly."

The Grand Cleric frowned, knowing that he would not gladly take on a companion, but she knew the rest of his statement to be true. His service was toward the betterment of the Chantry was simply a fact. Years of dedicated service proved that record true. "Go speak with Captain Quinn. He will have more to say on the subject, and awaits your report from your last assignment."

Derik bowed fully. "As you say, Grand Cleric. I hope that our paths cross once more in the near future."

She smiled in a motherly way and touched the back of his head. "Go, my child, and may the Maker keep his eye on you."

Excused, Derik turned and headed to the Templar quarters behind the main cathedral. It seemed as if the whole past week was suddenly catching up with him, and he would have liked nothing more than to simply sleep. This newest development threatened to put a significant dent in his independence, however. The Grand Cleric had obviously lost some trust in his work, though he could not fathom how. That Quinn was also concerned for his well being set off alarm bells. It was one thing for an old woman to be concerned about the fate of her flock, but another entirely for a grizzled commanding officer to be drawn into mother-henning tendencies. He would have to see what Captain Quinn had to say before setting plans to subvert the assignment of a partner or- Maker forbid- an apprentice.

He walked the long hall coming to the door at the end and rapped his knuckles against the solid wood three times. "Captain Quinn, ser, it is Knight-Lieutenant Derik, here to report my latest assignment."

"Come in." Came the reply from the other side of the door, muffled but clearly audible.

When Derik stepped through the door he immediately saw that something was amiss. Normally a man of principle and cleanliness, Quinn's desk was piled high with unorganized stacks of parchment, a handful of empty ink wells lingering close enough to the edge of his desk to be in danger of falling off the side. Captain Quinn was bent over a thick sheaf of documents, his fingers splattered with ink and day-old stubble on his jaw. He was reading a long sheaf of paper with furrowed eyebrows, wholly concentrated on the task.

"Ser?" Derik ventured, taking in the clutter curiously.

"Sit." Quinn replied curtly and gestured with the tip of his quill at a chair standing opposite from his on the other side of the desk. Derik did as told, though not without a certain amount of reluctance. Once he was settled, Quinn put down his quill and folded his hands together over his desk, examining the younger man with mechanical appraisal. "I have a problem. The whole damn Order has a problem, for that matter. I've been getting reports almost non-stop of men defecting from the Order, abandoning their charges. In some cases, they are letting mages go all together. Kinloch Hold has somehow remained untouched by this crisis, but all of the others that I've sent out in the field to bring mage children back to the Circle in the past month have either not returned or come back empty handed. Not a single one of them can remember where they went or who they talked to while out on the road. Small groups are being targeted and eliminated or rendered useless, and I sit here with a mountain of paperwork because of it."

Part of Derik was relieved to hear the news, though the rest of him went tense with worry. "Ser, if I may. While I was out on assignment in the Brecilian, I came across what I believe to be a summoning circle of some sort." He pulled out his journal, flipping it open to the most recently filled pages and lay it out on a low stack of papers. "I don't know if this is at all connected to the others disappearing, but I could not find the mages that created the circle. They are still at large, and as soon as I restock, it was my intention to get back on the trail."

Quinn scoffed under his breath, examining the runic circle that Derik had copied down and supplied. "Blood hound indeed." He muttered under his breath again and touched the journal's pages, lifting one slightly to get a better look. "I've never seen a pattern exactly like this. Perhaps before you leave, go to the Wonders of Thedas and see if you can get any answers from the proprietor."

Derik nodded, though did not particularly enjoy the thought of trying to get answers from the Tranquil that ran the store. "I'll do that, ser."

"Now, as for the matter of your lone missions." Quinn continued like a man on a warpath. "In light of these reports, I am truly concerned. So many good men have already gone missing, and I cannot afford to lose any more, especially not my best hunter."

"If you put me with another man, I fear that would be counter-productive to my missions. They always require speed, mobility, and silence." Derik replied immediately, keeping his tone respectful but clear that he would fight this issue. "It's hard enough trying to accomplish my tasks with the crest stamped on my breastplate, but to do so while looking out for an inexperienced greenhorn..."

Quinn sighed heavily. They had already had this argument on multiple occasions, usually ending with the reminder that they were Hands of the Maker, and not common cut throats. "All the same, in light of circumstances, it would be best to have you partnered up with someone. However, I can't help but feel the same as you do. The Grand Cleric is keen to lose no more of her Templars, even if that means sacrificing mobility." Quinn stood, clasping his hands behind his back and paced to the end of his desk with a thoughtful look on his face. "I cannot delay assigning you a partner forever, but I can give you a few months. Report back when you have solved the issue of this Brecilian cabal, and I will have a man for you. I'm sorry Derik, but these are desperate times."

"I understand, ser. I'm grateful that you have allowed this much freedom." Derik replied with genuine sincerity.

"I have allowed it because I know you can handle it." Quinn replied in a gentler tone, his grim visage softening slightly. "I didn't train you to be a fool. Now get out of here. You have a duty to complete."

Derik stood and bowed, stepping away from his chair. "I'll see you in two or three months, ser. Sooner if I can complete the mission before then."

Quinn sat back in his chair and waved Derik away, obviously done with this conversation. He headed back to the bunk quarters that the Templars shared and set his pack down on a free cot. He would have turned in for the night right then and slept until dawn, but he had a few things to get done before he could put down with a clear mind.

The marketplace was as busy as ever with people moving from stall to stall, the general chatter a constant stream of ambient noise. For the most part he ignored the hawkers and the corner criers, glancing occasionally at various wares as he passed them by, heading for the river. The merchant's bridge was near as busy as the marketplace itself, though when others saw the crest on his chest they moved aside, keeping a respectful distance away. Crossing the bridge was like entering a different world. After the Blight, the south side of the river had been completely rebuilt. Almost all of the buildings were brand new with fresh coats of paint and the roads aligned in what was almost a perfect grid system. As he walked down the road, the buildings steadily became smaller the closer to the ocean he got until he was walking among single-story buildings. Turning down a few side streets, Derik paused outside one of the unassuming buildings and tapped on the door.

After a moment the handle jiggled, admitting Mina who seemed to fill the entire space with her wealth of red hair. It took a second for her to realize who it was she looked at, but the moment she did she smiled broadly and opened the door all the way. "Derik! It's so good to see you!"

"Likewise, Mina." He replied with a smile and stepped through the door into the modest little house beyond. "How are you finding Denerim?"

"The city is wonderful." She replied cheerfully, closing the door behind him and went into the adjacent room, a small parlor with chairs in which to sit lining the walls of the room. "This side of the river is beautiful ever since the reconstruction. All those old teetering warehouses burned down in the fire and they've been doing a lovely job fixing it all up."

He smiled at her enthusiasm and sat down on one of the chairs. "And your father? Is he well?" Mina's father wasn't a mage, but he'd given up everything when his daughter had started showing the signs in order to be with her.

Suddenly, Mina couldn't look him in the eyes and fussed with her skirt in her lap instead. "He's doing well, but…" She looked at him with a shimmer of tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry Derik. I tried to help Neve, but we really just couldn't…"

"What happened?" Though instantly set on alert, he kept his tone calm. Obviously Mina was already upset and he saw no reason to fluster her even more yet.

"She was fine the first week." Mina replied tearfully. "But after that she started having episodes, crying out in her sleep and having hallucinations when she was awake. When we got her to Denerim, one of our contacts gave her lyrium, and that seemed to calm her down."

Derik tensed, his fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. "Who would give a hallucinating mage lyrium?"

"Emmet." Mina replied with a tinge of anger in her tone. "He recognized the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal and made her a client."

"Where is Neve now?" Derik asked, silently cursing Emmet and himself for being fools. Having normal people addicted to lyrium was risky enough with the Chantry's close control of the substance, but addicting a mage was asking for an abomination.

"She's working at The Pearl." Mina replied in a small voice. "When Emmet started demanding coin from my father, he threw Neve out."

Derik leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his temples to stave off the upcoming headache. "What's done is done. I'm not at all happy about this, but I'll see that it's fixed. Thank you for being honest with me, Mina."

She nodded and stood when he did, escorting the Templar toward the door. "I'm so sorry it turned out this way, Derik."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you did what you could." He said with a gentle smile and gave a respectful nod. "I'll see you again soon."

Her returning smile was bright and beaming as she said her farewells, once again closing the door behind Derik as he left. He had another mission, though this time of an extremely different nature.

The Pearl brothel had somehow remained remarkably intact through the darkspawn assault on Denerim. Though the rest of its neighbors had been rebuilt, there was a certain creakiness to The Pearl that not even a fresh coat of paint could cover. At mid day the brothel was low on business, but he knew that in a few hours all the regulars would be flooding in and filling the place to the brim. A few women stood outside and catcalled him as he approached, but Derik paid them no mind when he saw that none were Neve and simply walked inside.

A group of young guardsmen fresh off of patrol were receiving lap dances in a corner and a pair of sailors were playing a game of cards on the opposite side of the space, smoking their pipes like chimneys. The woman who ran the establishment looked up when she heard him walk through the front door, her usual sultry smile turning into a frown. Not intimidated by the less than warm reception, Derik approached the front counter anyway.

"What can I do for you, Templar?" Sanga asked, folding her arms under her breasts and leaned her hip against the counter. "I haven't got any of your initiates. This time."

"I'm actually here for a woman." Derik replied, unruffled and slid a handful of coins onto the counter. Sanga was obviously surprised but took the coin anyway. "Is there a girl named Neve here? I heard she was a real firebrand between the sheets."

"Aye, that girl's popular with the young lads." She replied, eyeing Derik critically. "Third door, on your left. You're lucky you came when it was slow."

Derik nodded and took the key Sanga handed him, heading to the back and passed the very large bouncer on the way in. It seemed that at least one of the brothel girls was paying her dues, as the first room he passed emitted a series of passionate moans and cries. Bypassing the door he moved to the end of the hall and tried the key at the door. The second he opened it he was hit with the strong smell of incense, sweat and sex. In the center of the large four-poster bed slept Neve, a robe draped over her form carelessly and barely covered her enough to be considered even halfway decent. She wore elbow length gloves with bracelets at the wrists and a ring around each middle finger to hide the damning scars on her arms, but otherwise seemed content to wear nothing else at all.

She roused when she heard the floorboards squeak and lifted her head to look at him. It took a few moments, but after the haze of sleep disappeared she snapped to full attention, clutching her robe closed and stared at him with those large doe-like eyes. "Derik…"

"Neve." He replied in kind and closed the door behind him, perching on the arm of the only chair in the room. "I hear that you've had a bit of trouble since last we saw each other."

She flushed, her cheeks going red and Derik noted that she looked even thinner than before, now bordering on the dangerous side of malnourished. Obviously, this lifestyle she had taken up was hard on the diet. In the poor lighting of the room it was hard to see the sunken in bags under her eyes, but he was positive that they were there. Too little sleep, too much lyrium. He would personally strangle Emmet some day if he could ever get his hands on the slippery man.

"What are you doing here?" Neve asked and tied her robe closed, though that did little to hide the majority of her legs and a good portion of her chest.

"I'm going to have to take you out of here." Derik said with a sigh. "It's too dangerous to leave you alone. I should have know that this could have happened. Lyrium addiction is serious business when it comes to mages."

Her eyes went wide. "No, you don't understand! I _need _lyrium! The things I see without it-!"

"I understand perfectly well." Derik cut across her tirade in a calm voice. "I had been addicted too a handful of years ago. I overcame it, I will see that you do the same." Or else he would most likely have to kill her, now rather than later if she refused to come. "Didn't you say you wanted your freedom? Is this how you thought you would be using it?" He gestured at the room in it's entirety, encompassing the stained sheets and slightly ratty appearance of the place in general.

Neve looked at her lap. "No..." She replied in a small voice, ashamed.

"Then come with me. Right now. We're leaving Denerim in the morning." He said and stood, offering a hand to Neve.

She stared at the offered hand and tentatively reached for it but drew up short. "I'm scared." She admitted in a voice that trembled. "Without the lyrium, my dreams were so... I was afraid I'd never wake up."

"This time I will be here to help you." Derik replied, his hand still held out steadily between them. "But I can't help you if you don't want it."

Her eyes watered with unshed tears. Closing them, she reached out that last little distance and put her small hand in his much larger one. With an encouraging smile Derik tugged and pulled her up to stand beside him, the confines of the small room making it impossible to get any personal space.

"I'm going to cause a little bit of a scene out there." He said in a low undertone against Neve's ear. "Just play along and act distressed, and I'll get you out of here."

Neve nodded in understanding but was still startled when he suddenly yanked her toward the door, slamming it open and practically dragged her out into the hallway. His gaunteleted fist dug into her tender wrist with a painful bite. "You're hurting me!"

His grip slackened just a fraction but he didn't stop and just kept dragging her toward the door, straight past the bouncer who was caught entirely off guard by the sudden commotion so early in the day. Derik muscled past him easily when the guard finally realized what was going on, shoving him away with a firm hand on the bouncer's chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sanga screeched, on the verge of full-blown rage.

Derik yanked Neve close to him, holding her upper arm like a prisioner in a vice-like grip. "Your girl has been assisting the smuggling of lyrium." He said in a cold voice, and Sanga visibly recoiled, recogninzing the tone of a Templar unleashing his full authority as a hand of the Chantry. "I'm taking her for interrogation. Don't think I won't be back to investigate this whole place from top to bottom, and I had better find it pristine. If I find _anything_ that even remotely smells of lyrium when I come back, I will _personally_ lead a Divine March on this place and see it burned to the ground. Am I understood?"

Sanga had nothing to say to that, her fluster and fury gone to be replaced with mute terror. The bouncer looked on the verge of a killing rage, but an icy glare from Derik and a subtle touch to the pommel of his sword stayed the man's building rage. "Let's go." he said in a clipped harsh tone and dragged Neve from the room. She barely had to fake her cries for help and pleas for him to let go of her arm.

The whores outside briefly considered trying their luck on Derik a second time, but when they saw Neve in near tears being forced out of the building in little more than her night robe they retreated as far away as they could and still see the show. It wasn't until they were safely a few streets away that Derik finally gentled his grip and pulled Neve aside into a sheltered alleyway.

"Sorry about that." He said in a gentle tone and touched her wrist where his gauntlet had bit into her flesh, leaving red marks behind under the long gloves she wore.

"You should be!" Neve replied with a bit of bite, rubbing her arm. "I thought you were going to tear me in half!"

He smiled at her sassy retort and pulled a flask from its case at his hip, tugging out a folded square of cloth with the other. "I needed that to seem real." He said as he dabbed some of the liquid onto the cloth. "You did a spectacular job, by the way. Sagna completely fell for it."

Neve allowed him to tug down her gloves and watched him take her hand, rubbing gentle circles across her thin wrist with the dampened cloth that smelled of elfroot and took away the sting of the developing bruise he'd left behind. "I was half convinced myself." She said in a small voice, her eyes flicking up to look at his concentrated expression. "Are you really going to go back and tear The Pearl apart?"

"No." Derik replied and moved on to the mark he'd left on her upper arm, applying a fresh dab of elfroot extract. "I'll inform my captain of my suspicions, and he will take action as necessary. They will probably find nothing. I imagine that Sagna will scare Emmet away permanently from selling to the initiates that frequent there."

Neve was quiet for a moment, simply content to watch Derik fix the minor bruises on her arm. "Why are you helping me?"

His eyes flicked up to meet hers briefly. "I have a thing for damsels in distress." He replied and tucked the cloth back into its place, screwing the cap back on the flask and straightened. Besides, I really do detest Emmet. I would see him jailed or hung, but if I got rid of him, more lyrium dealers would spring up in his place. Making you one of his clients was crossing a line, and this little display at The Pearl will let him know that."

Neve tipped her head to the side slightly, readjusting her glove so that it covered her arm once more. "Are you sure you're a Templar? You sound more like a crime lord."

Derik chuckled at that and gestured for her to follow him down the alleyway. "My only goal is to protect the Maker's children." He said over his shoulder to Neve as she walked along slightly behind him. "_All_ of them. That includes mages, something that I'm afraid many of my brothers in arms have forgotten. My loyalty is to the Maker and those I protect, not necessarily Her Grace, or the Divine. My actions may stray from the strict code of the Templars, but I don't wear this crest for nothing."

Neve was silent for a long moment before speaking. "So, you're some sort of hero, then?"

Derik met her eyes over his shoulder and shot her a lopsided grin. "Not really. I'm just good at what I do."

Neve laughed, shaking her head. "You're an odd bird, you know that, right?"

"I've been told." Derik replied with a smile and a shrug. "But first thing's first; you need real clothes."

Neve looked down at herself, spreading her arms out slightly. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"You look like a prostitute." Derik quipped in a perfect deadpan.

"I am a prostitute." Neve countered in an equally uninflected tone. "You just dragged me out of The Pearl, remember?"

He shot her a woeful look over his shoulder. "Yes, I remember. The point is not what you are, it's what you look like. Have you ever seen a Templar traipse around the city in broad daylight with a prostitute?"

"Well, no." Neve replied, though did not seem to find the situation any less amusing. "But we could start a new trend. With all the initiates we get at The Pearl, I'm sure it would catch on quickly."

His pained groan only served to make Neve softly giggle to herself. "It's going to be a long trip to Amaranthine."

"Amaranthine?" Neve asked, perking up. "Is that where you're taking me?"

"Yes. I need to talk to a friend about some runes that I found in the Brecilian. She might be able to help you with controlling your impulses to use blood magic as well. Before I take you anywhere though, I'm getting you clothes." Derik clearly used his no-nonsense tone on her and Neve rolled her eyes in turn, though was secretly becoming increasingly interested in whoever this friend was.

They were near the marketplace now with only a long bridge between getting Neve a decent pair of clothes. Instead of crossing it, Derik led her away from the crowds and to a side street populated with small narrow houses. He withdrew a skeleton key from a pocket at his side and opened up the front door to one of the houses, letting Neve walk inside first.

It was furnished with a few sitting chairs, an empty fire grate and a workbench along the back wall that seemed to be the source of the smell of dried herbs that filled the space. At the back of the room there was a set of stairs that led to a second level and another room that was most likely a kitchen of some sort.

"The cots are upstairs." Derik said and put the key back in his pocket. "This is a safe house for Collective members and their families if they have need to hide. It hasn't been used in a while, so there's no food or other supplies. I'll bring you back something when I get your clothes."

"Seems the Collective is serious business." Neve sat in one of the chairs, coughing when doing so kicked up a small cloud of dust.

Derik barely bit back a chuckle. "Yes, they are. They have to be if they want to keep operating. The Chantry is very tenacious when it comes to apostates."

"Yes, I know." Neve frowned bitterly and leaned back in the chair, stretching out her long legs, the night robe she wore riding high on her thighs. "My family was constantly moving to keep out of trouble. You'd think that Templars would avoid marshes, given that their heavy armor makes them sink faster, but they don't."

"No path is too dangerous for the faithful." Derik sighed, scratching his temple absently. "Anyway, I'll be back in a few hours. I have a few inquires to make before we leave. Do not leave this house. For any reason."

She stared at him curiously, but when she saw that he was absolutely serious, she nodded. "Alright, I'll stay put."

"Good. Make yourself at home as much as you can. The cots upstairs are the most comfortable thing you'll be sleeping on for a week, I can guarantee you that. Get some rest, and we'll get some food in you when I get back."

"If you say so, ser Templar." Neve puffed out a sigh, sinking back into the armchair further.

Derik cast one last look over his shoulder before closing the door and honestly wondered if she would still be there when he got back.

* * *

So, I sort of choose these titles based on what happens in the chapters. Sometimes it's obvious (like last chapter) and sometimes it's not (like this chapter). I just imagine that the Maker would be sitting back in his throne, watching history repeat itself in bloody battle after bloody battle and the establishment of places like The Pearl and wonder what exactly it was that he created. That's all really. But hey, Neve's back in the picture, and high on lyrium. Yay! Funtimes abound.


	4. Small Insights

He had expected to walk into an empty safe house, but when Derik walked through the door he was greeted with instead the sight of Neve perched on the edge of an armchair, completely naked with wet hair hanging over her shoulder. She turned a brilliant smile on him, seemingly completely at ease. "Welcome back."

He shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. "What are you _doing?"_ He hissed, a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks and he hurriedly shrugged the pack off his back and began searching for the clothes inside.

"What's the matter Templar? Never seen a naked woman before?" Her smile became a cat-like grin and she deliberately arched her back slightly, giving him a better view of her breasts.

"I've seen _you_ naked before." He replied with a frown and met her eyes squarely before continuing to unpack. "I thought you were more modest than this."

Her laughter filled the room and Derik shoved the clothes in her hands, busying himself by reorganizing his pack. "Well, it's funny how selling your body to horny men can make a girl a little less modest." She replied and stretched out the clothes he had handed her, wrinkling her nose and frowning. "What are these?"

"Clothes." He replied in a deadpan and straightened. "You're going to need them." Walking toward the stairs, he muttered to himself under his breath. "And I'm going to need some patience, Maker willing."

Her laugh followed him up the second story, Neve clearly amused by his hasty retreat. Pulling on the cotton shirt, she decided not to bother with anything else as she was going to bed anyway and skipped up the stairs after him.

* * *

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.  
_Trials 1:10

* * *

They were only half a day's walk from the outskirts of Amaranthine, but with Neve shuddering from withdraw it might as well have been an impassible cliff that stood between them and their final destination rather than a few hours' walk.

Derik had led her to a small cottage in the woods, more of a hunting cabin than anything else for the night. The owner was out for the evening, collecting any unfortunate game that had fallen into the various snares around the woods. Neve was in the only bed, half sleeping and obviously plagued by some inner demons, metaphorical and otherwise. Derik sat nearby in a threadbare chair with creaking armrests, studiously jotting notes in his journal with his armor stacked neatly beside him.

For a normal person, lyrium withdraw could take two months to get to this level of severity. He had his own theories about why Neve was suffering so harshly when she'd only been off lyrium for a handful of days, most of his theory centering around the fact that she was a mage. Otherwise he had no real explanation, and no way to ease the transition other than lending some emotional support whenever she was lucid enough to appreciate it.

Derik was currently trying to decipher the runic ring he'd found in the Bracilian, making notes to himself on certain forms that he recognized and those that were completely foreign to him, along with the precious few that the Tranquil man he'd visited in the Wonders of Thedas had pointed out for him. All the while he kept an eye on Neve. Though he had been nothing but reassuring while she was awake, he was prepared for the worst, his swords leaning against the chair he sat in well within easy reach. She was extremely vulnerable to demonic attack and possession in the state that she was in, but if she passed through this then he would have little choice but to consider her Harrowed. Even mages at the Circle didn't have to face what Neve was facing now.

"Derik." Her voice was a faint croak, her skin pale and clammy despite the sweat that dotted her forehead.

Setting aside his journal briefly, Derik stood from the chair to go kneel next to the bed. "I'm here."

She held out her hand and he took it gently, her eyes drifting closed again and she winced against some inner pain. "You promise you'll kill me before I can hurt anyone?"

"I swear." He replied in a gentle tone, giving her hand a small squeeze. "But if you fight and win, it will not have to come to that."

Her smile was distant, her gaze hazy when she managed to open her eyes enough to look at him. "I only know how to run." She whispered, her voice little more than a mumble. "Just running... I'm good at running."

Derik smoothed back the hair on her forehead, laying his cooler palm against her feverish forehead. "You don't have a choice this time, wilder. It's your soul on the line, and your enemy will not yield until he is dead or has you in his clutches."

Neve's eyes drifted closed again, her lashes creating a thick crescent against the swell of her cheek. "Always so serious with you." She quipped with an echo of humor in her voice. "Was it this bad for you?"

He nodded. "About the same. I didn't have any of the demons to deal with, though."

She smiled. "Lucky bastard. Why did you quit the dust?"

Derik leaned back on his heels and folded his hands loosely in his lap, thinking a moment. "Well, I had to. I spend long stretches of time on the road, often in uninhabited areas. I simply have no access to it."

Neve frowned and turned her head to look at him. "Then how'd you get on it in the first place?"

A pained smile graced his lips for the briefest of seconds. "It's a requirement of being a Templar. Using lyrium lets us build up resistance to magic."

Her snort was accompanied with a sardonic grin. "Such hypocrites. I always wondered why they carried the dust on them."

"It's a trade secret." Derik replied nonchalantly with a small lift of his shoulders. "It's dangerous, but it works." Gently he tapped Neve's shoulder, a wisp of anti-magic wicking off some of Neve's power in a cool wash. "I would like to say that the means justify the ends, and perhaps they do, but I have my doubts."

"You're pretty unfaithful for a Templar." Neve mumbled and closed her eyes, looking a little less stressed since he'd taken some of her magic away. "Where's all your self-righteous hogwash? I almost miss hearing it."

Instead of getting offended, Derik chuckled and sat back down in his chair, picking up his journal. "If you want a lecture, I can give you one. I have a large repertoire and a number of verses carefully calculated to shame you into penance. Would that make you feel more at ease?"

Neve gave a breathy chuckle. "I'm almost tempted, Templar. It would be like I'm coming home. But I think I'm good for the moment without an additional dose of shame."

"Where is home for a family of wilder mages on the run?" Derik asked casually and went back to writing in his journal. "I know of a few roaming communities in the Brecilian and the marshes, and a village or two in the mountains that center around a shaman or a magical woman or some sort."

"Mm, nothing like that." Neve shook her head. "It was just my sister and my parents with me. We wandered Ferelden, going wherever the game was best. Ma died a couple of years before the Blight... Fever took her. Leona disappeared a little after that. My father and I looked for her all over, but it wasn't until last year that I found she had been recruited into the Midnight Tang. By then, she'd died. We were caught in Lothering when the horde came and I fled to the north coast until it was all over."

"How did they get you?" Derik asked softly, pausing in his writing.

She drew a deep breath, eyes fluttering open to stare at the ceiling. "I was heading to Redcliffe from the Bannorn, chasing rumors. I'd made some coin selling elfroot and wanted to spend a night under a roof. I got to the inn and realized that there were a couple of men I had recognized from before who had been following me around. I left, but they followed. They attacked once we were out of town, so I used my magic. Apparently that's all they wanted to see, because they captured me right afterwards and dragged me to that shack. The rest you know."

Derik tapped his fingers to his lips, a contemplative expression on his face. "That ritual you were in really was forced on you, wasn't it?"

Neve shot him an icy glare. "Of course it was. I might not be a Circle mage, but that doesn't make me dumb. My mother taught us how to stay safe, and joining a cult filled with psychopaths was definitely not on her to-do list. They _are_ psychopaths too, you know." She sighed and closed her eyes again, reaching up to press the back of her hand against her forehead. "I had some time to think about it. I think they're collecting mages for some reason. All the apostates and hedge mages that they can find. I wasn't the only one that they'd kidnapped at the time. You didn't find any others when you came charging in?"

Derik shook his head. "You were the only one in the house that I found in a ritual state. All the others appeared to have full control of their powers." Though the news that the Tang was actively kidnapping and using free mages in blood rituals sent alarm bells of in his head. He had been tracking them in the first place because the Collective had gotten word that there were confirmed maleficar in the assassin guild. The Templar Order hadn't heard such whispers just yet, and he hoped that the issue would be put to rest before the Order had to get involved with the situation. Otherwise he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that things would become very bloody very fast.

"That's too bad." Neve mumbled, unaware of Derik's budding fears. "Most of them were just scared. Pulled out of the blue like I was, doped up on lyrium and raped. That was part of the ritual too, you know. They told us before they drugged us that the men would rape the women during the ritual. It was part of the fear that would make demons more attracted to us. What I can't figure out is how they made sure it was only desire demons that heeded the call. No Pride, no Rage, only Desire."

He wondered that too and jotted a quick note in his journal. "That's quite a feat considering the amazing amount of duress that they must have put you all through. That place must have been a hive of demonic activity before I came."

"Not really." Neve shook her head and inhaled before beginning another long explanation. "It was like an undercurrent of wrongness. I felt uneasy just getting near the place, but it wasn't like dreaming in the Fade when you accidentally wind up in the realm of some demon or another. It was just a pervasive air of misfortune. It's hard to describe…"

Another riddle to figure out. "Well, I hope that when we get to Amaranthine we'll have some more answers."

Neve silently agreed and drifted back into an uneasy sleep, leaving Derik to ponder and try to put the pieces together in the quiet of the cabin.

* * *

Haha, I sort of like these flashback snippets before the verses at the beginning of the story. Probably won't have them every time, but please forgive my silly indulgences. Just a little background work for Neve this chapter, since she's going to be a permanent fixture around Derik for a while. More plot revealing as well. Yay! Sorry this one is a bit short. This one was written pretty much entirely on the iPod. Oh well.


	5. Maura Finley

_All things in this world are finite.  
What one man gains, another has lost.  
Those who steal from their brothers and sisters  
Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.  
Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart._

Transfigurations 1:5

* * *

The city of Amaranthine was nestled between the verdant hills of the Arling, patrolled regularly by guards and saturated with the whispers of the elven Warden that governed them. On the outskirts of the city the houses were few and far apart, low-standing sturdy buildings meant to weather the test of time. It was out here that Derik stopped them for the day with a knock on one door that did not particularly stand out amongst the rest, looking like all the others.

The half-day's march had taken near the whole day because Neve was still physically weak from her recovery, though well enough to travel now that the lyrium had been flushed from her system. She still looked a little on the sick side, but there was a brightness and awareness in her eyes that had dimmed while she was on the blue dust. She was far from fully recovered from her addiction, but at least she had set foot on the right path.

The door opened slightly, revealing a slip of an older elf woman with creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth. When she saw it was Derik the creases deepened in a motherly smile and she opened the door as far as it would go. "Hello dear. It has been a while."

"Talia, it's good to see you again." Derik replied with a returning smile and stooped low so that the old woman could hug him tightly. She beckoned the two inside and he stepped over the threshold, gently tugging Neve inside as well. "Talia, this is Neve."

"A pleasure to meet you dear." Talia said and squeezed Neve's upper arm in a kind way, her kind smiles infectious, though she turned a warning look on Derik. "If you keep brining me pretty girls like this, the neighbors will start talking! You keep an eye on him, miss." She said directly to Neve with a wag of her finger at Derik. "He's a charmer, this one." Derik chuckled at her motherly outburst; his grin broad and Neve arched an eyebrow curiously at him.

"Derik's back?" Another voice called from inside the house and a woman shortly rounded the corner to see for herself what all the commotion was about. A sudden flash of recognition flashed through Neve, immediately recalling this woman from the memory she had pulled from Derik the first time they had med. The memory come to life had bright blue eyes that seemed to see straight through Neve and her brown-blonde hair was cut short like a warrior or a worker.

The woman stared back at Neve, surprise and concern flicking over her face. "Derik? Who's your friend?"

Sensing the sudden tension in the room, Derik cleared his throat and edged half a step forward to make the introductions. "Maura, this is Neve. Neve, Maura."

Tipping her chin back, Neve closed the space between them and stuck her hand out almost defiantly, a dazzling smile on her lips. "Derik has told me a little about you." A lie. Derik had said nothing of this woman, though from their first encounter she knew that this Maura woman was the person he desired most in the world. "I'm glad to finally see you in person.

Maura for her part studied Neve intensely for a second and met Neve's handshake with a firm one of her own. A spark of magic passed between them, and Maura's expression darkened a fraction. "Nice to meet you. Is Derik giving you the tour of the Collective?" She shot him a questioning look over Neve's shoulder, her frown holding just the slightest bit of an accusation.

Neve straightened a bit, her shoulders rolling back. "Not really. He just likes keeping me around is all. I'm quite splendid company actually." She leaned forward slightly with a conspiratorial grin and said in a stage whisper: "Especially in bed."

Behind her Derik shook his head and covered his eyes with a pained expression. Talia blushed furiously, her mouth falling open to an almost perfect "o". Maura leaned back and chuckled, apparently completely unfazed. "If you say so, Neve. Derik? Can I talk with you a moment?"

Sensing a storm, Talia quickly conjured a reason to be busy. "I'll put supper on, shall I? Neve, be a dear and help me out, would you? I'm afraid I'm not as fast at peeling potatoes as I used to be."

With a quick look at Derik, Neve followed the elf to the kitchen and left the Templar and Maura to themselves.

Maura jerked her head toward the back of the house, indicating Derik to follow her and walked as far as they could get from the kitchen in the small homestead. "I hope you know what you're doing, bringing that woman here." She hissed in a furious whisper, folding her arms across her chest.

"Maura, have I ever given you reason to doubt me?" Derik asked with a disarming smile, loosening his gauntlets in a slight casual motion. "This isn't the first time I've gone traipsing across Ferelden with a dangerous mage. You aught to know."

She shook her head and sighed, loosening her arms slightly. "This is different, Derik. If this girl is anything like her sister-"

Derik perked up immediately. "You knew her sister?"

"Leona, if I remember the name right. The two look almost identical." Maura supplied with a frown. "She was the assassin I told you about. The one I stopped from killing Aedan during the Blight while we were near Redcliffe." Aedan Cousland, second son of that noble house, now a Grey Warden and also Maura's former lover. She had spent her first year outside of the Circle tower fleeing the Templar pursuit with Aedan at her side, helping him in turn to take revenge for his family slaughtered by Rendon Howe, the traitorous man ending his life at the end of Aedan's blade.

The two would be together even now if not for Derik, who had spirited her away after the fall of the Archdemon and the lingering confusion as the Horde disappeared back into the Deep Roads from whence they came. He had planted an Abomination where Maura had been in order to convince the Templar Order that she was dead once and for all, and even Aedan had no idea of the trickery that had taken place that bloody day and even now thought her still very dead. Three years had passed since that day, and though it was no longer necessary to keep him in the dark, Maura's existence had been kept from him simply because being a Grey Warden had put him in Orlais, the seat of the Divine and the worst place for a recently dead apostate to turn up. She still hoped that even after the handful of years she would be able to see him again, that they could be together. He was supposed to be coming back to Ferelden within the week on leave from Orlais to visit the Vigil's Keep, seat of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, which was why she was in Amaranthine in the first place.

"Ah, so that's why the name was familiar." Derik mused casually after a pause, though this new revelation presented a slight possible problem. If Neve and Aedan happened to cross paths, and he mistook her as Leona back from the grave, then Derik had little doubt that bloodshed would immediately ensue. Grey Wardens were notorious for their excellently honed ability to kill things. "I'll keep everyone in their separate corners." He finally said after a moment of consideration. "If I had remembered, I wouldn't have brought her here. But what's done is done, and she needs help."

Maura arched an eyebrow. "What sort of help?" She asked, leaning her hip against the wall casually. "Perhaps with her bluffs. Anyone that knows you knows you don't take random women to bed." There was no jealousy, no speculation, just a simple statement of facts.

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. She knew him too well. "No, I think that's just part of her charm. But the reason I brought her to you is because she was used in a blood magic ritual and is now an unwilling blood mage as well." He didn't miss how Maura's fists tightened reflexively over the scars on her own palms, evidence of her betrayal to the Chantry's teaching against blood magic. "I fear there might be a demon attached to her because of the ritual, and it is more dangerous to keep her oblivious of the implications of her powers. I'd rather have you set her straight than see her bumbling around in the dark."

Maura nodded once, a sharp motion that was more like a subtle twitch of her head. "I'll see what I can do. But Derik, if she turns out to be trouble…"

"I know you'll do what needs to be done." He finished for her, shrugging his broad shoulders with a creak of leather and scratch of metal on metal. "I never would have brought her anywhere near here if I didn't think it was safe, though. I wouldn't risk Glynn's safety for a stranger."

Maura's eyes flicked unconsciously to a nearby door, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip with an expression of motherly concern on her face. Glynn was the only physical connection she had left of her lover Aedan, the son she'd borne for a man who thought she was dead. "I know you wouldn't." She finally allowed in a small voice before meeting his eyes again. "I'll meet her in the Fade tonight and see what I can do."

"Thank you, Maura." Derik's careful smile was warm but quickly replaced by a blank expression as he dug out his journal and opened it to the page with the runic circle drawn on it. "Do you recognize any of this at all?"

Maura took the journal in hand, her eyes flicking over the page and bit her bottom lip. "Yes and no. I feel like I should know it, but at the same time I can't place it." She turned the journal slightly, reading some of the notes crammed in the margins that Derik had written. "How long do I have to study it?"

"Until you have a solid conclusion about Neve." Derik replied with a causal grin to which Maura wrinkled her nose at and stuck her tongue at him. "I thought being a mother was supposed to make you more mature, not less."

"Keep grinning Derik, see where it gets you." Maura replied with mock severity and tucked the journal under her arm. "I'll let you know if I figure anything out. It feels like it's right on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite find the right words."

"Well, if you can't come up with something, then there are very few people who could, and less that I would trust to actually show the runes to." He sighed, shrugging again. "Thanks for the help. I'd like to trust that Neve would be fine on her own, and having you check her would be a great load off my mind."

"Of course." Maura smiled, more genuinely this time. "I know you have a thing for damsels in distress. This seems precisely your sort of case."

Derik snorted. "That's what I told her. I don't think she believed me."

"She will if you keep letting her tag along." Maura replied with a grin, then reached out and touched the crook of his arm. "I'm glad to see you again. I can't tell you what it means to me to have you here when I finally see him…" She trailed off; her eyes shimmering with unshed tears and looked down, biting her lip.

Carefully and with infinite tenderness, Derik pulled Maura into a gentle hug and she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist in return. "I know." He murmured and gave her a small squeeze. "You've missed him."

"I have." She agreed in a watery voice. "Glynn looks just so much like him… Every day I see him growing up and it just makes me miss him more. I hope he won't be angry."

"If he is, then I'll knock some sense into him." Derik assured in a playful tone, making Maura chuckle despite her impending tears. "If he gets angry at anyone, it will be me. I took you away without telling him my plan." The argument that the two of them had after she'd first woken up and been told that Aedan was in Orlais and had no idea she was still alive had haunted Derik for the past three years. He might not want to let Maura go, but he was determined to right this wrong, for her sake if not his own.

"You did what you had to." Maura assured him and pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"Supper, you two!" Talia called from the other side of the house, the smell of the boiling soup pervading the whole space. Maura lent Derik one last tentative smile then went to the kitchen with Templar in tow.

The four sat down to dinner, joined by a fifth; Maura's boy, who was too young to even be called a toddler yet and was mostly just content to stick his fingers in the potatoes rather than have them in his mouth. The three old friends chatted over dinner, laughing as they told stories of adventures old and new, and Neve watched the whole spectacle with an aching heart and ate silently. The sight only dredged up old memories of her own family, all the members of which were long dead. Even though she was starving and in desperate need of a good solid meal, she didn't manage to eat much.

Talia busied herself after dinner by cleaning up, Neve helping where she could while Maura attended her son and Derik washed the road out of his everything, bemoaning the state of his clothes the whole while. Maura lent a hand between entertaining Glynn, and by the time Neve was done with the dishes Derik had finished his wash and hung everything out to dry for the night. He had contented himself by lingering in the doorway of the small parlor, his shoulder and hip leaning against the doorjamb. Maura stood inside, rocking a tired Glynn to sleep.

Neve wiped her hands on her dress, walking over and standing just behind Derik, looking around his shoulder. "Your boy is a sweet little guy." She said quietly, observing the scene with a small pang of jealousy. It all looked so… normal.

Derik looked at her briefly before turning his attention back to the heartwarming scene. "Glynn isn't mine."

Neve's eyebrows shot up. "No? But Maura's is your wife, isn't she? Or lover, or whatever. I forgot that Templars can't marry."

Derik's lip twitched up in a brief smile and he turned from the doorway, heading toward the room that Talia had allotted him for the night instead. Curious, Neve followed him. "Maura is an old friend from my days in training at the Circle." He supplied when he realized that Neve was still looking for answers. "We were lovers a long time ago, but the child belongs to another man."

"Where's the father, then?" She asked, tipping her head and a flash of sadness crossed her features. "Is he dead?"

"He almost was." Derik replied casually. "Right now he's somewhere between here and Orlais and will probably be very angry to learn that he has a son and that we've been keeping it from him."

Neve chuckled; glad that at least she wouldn't have to share a roof knowing that the poor child was fatherless too. "You sly bastard. Trying to steal another man's girl? I thought you were more honorable."

Instead of getting offended, he just shrugged helplessly. "I'll admit that I tried, but I'm afraid that she's immune to my considerable charms. She might have belonged to me once, but she's since moved on. I just look out for her now."

Neve touched his arm gently and turned his face with the tip of her finger. "Suffering from a broken heart, Templar?" She asked in a small voice, empathetically feeling the pain that he refused to show.

"No." The lie was blatant but made with such conviction that Neve didn't dare argue. Derik inclined his head slightly. "Good night, Neve. I'll be nearby if anything goes wrong with you and Maura in the Fade tonight."

"Thank you. Good night." She replied with a little returning nod of her own and watched him disappear into the darkness before heading into her own room.

* * *

M'kay, so, for those of you that read Heirs of Honor, this story is taking place at the same time as Aedan and Solona's epilogue, which is just a little bit before the Qunari attack on Kirkwall and after all of the DLC for Origins. For those of you who didn't read HoH, I hope I explained the situation enough in-story that you weren't tagging along confused and hopeless. Like I said in the summary, you don't have to read HoH to understand this story, and after the next two chapters, it's likely that HoH content won't be mentioned ever again except for in slight passing. Also, I was really heavy-handed with this chapter's verse. I hope ya'll caught that.


	6. Dreams and Demons

_And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade  
Saying: In My image I have wrought  
My firstborn. You have been given dominion  
Over all that exists. By your will  
All things are done.  
Yet you do nothing.  
The realm I have given you  
Is formless, ever-changing._

Threnodies 5:4

* * *

Neve wasn't sure what to expect from Maura's promised midnight visit in the Fade, but she had prepared herself as best she was able for the occasion. The moment she'd stepped into the Fade from the waking realm, Neve created her safe haven, the place she went to be free of the nightmares and the demons that lurked waiting to pull her into their waiting arms. Her little corner of un-reality was a small beach on the shores of Lake Calenhad at the foot of the towering Frostback Mountains. It was mid-summer in her reality, the chill of the afternoon breeze coming off the lake competing with the warmth of the sun from a cloudless blue sky, the water lapping gently at the shore just a few feet away. Neve leaned back on the grass, drawing a deep breath and watched the sky, robin's egg blue that briefly gave way to sickly green in places, the currents of the Fade pushing against her little dome of tranquility.

A sudden persistent chirping caught her attention, breaking what should have been almost absolute peace. Curious and slightly annoyed, Neve sat up and looked around to see a small sparrow perched in the trees nearby, staring down at her. She frowned at the creature and willed it away, but the little bird stubbornly did not disappear. With a sinking feeling, Neve gathered herself and stood, prepared to banish the creature forcefully when a sudden voice rang out, making her pause mid-step.

"This is quite the beautiful little place." Maura appeared from the Raw Fade, a swirl of green mist clinging to her as she stepped through a hole in Neve's reality, the mist falling in wisps and disappearing against the verdant green grass. She seemed to shimmer slightly as she walked, then Maura solidified into her normal self, equipped with a longbow and soft dark hunting leathers. "You're very talented at constructing believable environments."

Despite the compliment, Neve stiffened, feeling Maura's scrutiny of her sanctuary sharply. "Is the bird yours?" She asked curtly, gesturing toward the little creature.

Maura smiled. "It is a companion of mine, yes."

"I am Fortitude." A deep voice said from seemingly nowhere. Neve looked for the source, startled by the intrusion and the sparrow came and landed on her shoulder. "And you are tainted by darkness."

Maura lifted her hand slightly and the little sparrow fluttered to sit on her finger instead, though kept its beady eyes firmly on Neve. "Fortitude is a Spirit of this realm." She supplied with an insincere smile. "He's very good at spotting blood mages."

Neve felt distinctly ruffled, but she stayed cool and drew herself up, willing herself to appear collected and calm. "Fantastic ability, though unnecessary. I would have told you as much, and I know that Derik did."

"He did at that." Maura agreed with a small incline of her head. "He also told me that you might have a demon attached to you. I'm going to draw it out, and you are going to try and kill it. Understand?"

Neve blinked, drawing back into herself. "I don't fight demons." She stated in a tone that brooked little argument. "I ignore them, or avoid them. Tangling with demons is what gets stupid mages possessed."

"And while that is an excellent practice, this is a different case." Maura said with an incline of her head, studying Neve briefly before her gaze went absolutely flinty and cold. "I killed your sister."

The calm declaration out of the blue struck Neve like a physical blow, sending her mind reeling. "What?"

"I killed your sister." Maura repeated for her, saying it again more slowly and deliberately. She began advancing on Neve, ripples of the Fade washing off her as her magic began to manifest, disrupting the illusion of Neve's Fade reality like a pebble crashing through the surface of a still pond. "Your sister tried to assassinate the man I love, so I killed her."

Amongst the panicked confusion that Neve had been plunged into, a peculiar twist twitched in her chest at the bold-faced declaration. "It was you?" She whispered, taking a step back and trembled with tears pricking the back of her eyes. "Leona never stood a chance, did she?"

Maura shook her head. "Not even the slightest." Her statement was matter of fact, not in the least bit tinged with a hint of bragging or pride. "I protect the people I love, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that no harm comes to them when I can prevent it."

The sudden torrent of magic hit Neve like a physical wall of power and she found herself suddenly completely restrained and struggling for air. Her bubble of tranquility shattered like glass and melted into the Raw Fade, the blue sky turning green and the blue lake and green grass turning to cracked dry lifeless earth. Her back was against a protrusion of rock, their little arena of death surrounded by stone pillars that reached toward the sky like wicked teeth. She knew exactly where she was, and the soft chuckling of the demons that haunted her nearly drowned out Maura's next words.

"Are you here to finish what your kin started?" She demanded, releasing the pressure on Neve's neck just enough to allow her a reply.

Her fight of flight instincts kicked into full-gear fight and Neve lashed out at her attacker the second she was given leeway. What she didn't expect was for Maura to be prepared for the attempt, and the magical recoil stung Neve like a slap across the face. She blinked, so surprised that she couldn't muster the will to say anything.

"Answer the question!" Maura roared, her magic now pouring off of her in visible waves, the pressure of her magical ability pressing against Neve like a smothering glove. "Are you here to kill Aedan or Derik?"

"No!" Neve finally managed, trying in vain to struggle against her bonds. "I never wanted this!" The tears pricking the back of her eyes blurred her vision, the hopelessness of her situation finally dawning on her. "I don't want to kill anybody! I just want to be left alone!"

Maura stared her down, matching Neve's frightened wild look with a cold resolved one of her own. "I can't take that chance." She finally said and raised her hand, power crackling from her fingertips. Neve's eyes went wide; a gasp caught in her throat and tried again to struggle against her bonds. "When you wake, you will be Tranquil, and you will be unable to hurt anyone ever again."

The whispering of her demon increased, promising Neve power. Enough power to conquer this woman and set her free. If only she would let the demon help her, if only for a second... just a small moment...

"NO!" Neve screamed and the world around her erupted with thick roots, wrapping around the rock she was attached to like a loose cage. Maura had to quickly retreat or risk being killed by sudden protection that Neve had constructed, the power crackling around her fluctuating slightly. "Just please! Leave me alone!"

Inside her cage of protection the demon appeared as if from thin air, caressing Neve's cheek. "You can keep struggling, love, but that woman will not let you go." The demon whispered in her curiously alluring double tones, demonic flames rising from her head between two curled black horns. "I can free you." She whispered, flicking her eyes to Maura and cuddling close to Neve so that her almost completely naked body pressed against Neve's arm. "I can help you get rid of her. She'll never bother you again; never frighten you, never make you feel weak."

Outside the cage Maura watched quietly, gathering power to herself and the little sparrow that called itself Fortitude sat on her shoulder, its form having dissipated to be nothing more than smoke and raw magic, nearly invisible against the disturbance Maura was creating in the texture of the Fade.

Neve squeezed her eyes shut against the temptation, wishing she could run, but could not pull herself from Maura's entrapment. "No." That simple word seemed to trigger a reaction from outside of her protective wall of roots. Maura made a cutting motion with her hand and the invisible bindings holding Neve to the rock disappeared, letting her fall to the ground. "Kill your demon!" She yelled, waving her hands and inscribing runes in the empty air in front of her, leaving behind blinding trails like ignited lyrium in the shape of the runes she crafted. "I'll keep her from escaping!"

Maura's sudden transformation from enemy to ally caught Neve off guard enough for her to feel the claws of the demon reaching inside her mind, prying open her defenses from the inside out. The painful sensation snapped her back to the present, and Neve lashed out, the roots of her formerly protective cage turning into deadly weapons that turned on the demon, impaling the creature. Neve slipped out from the living roots, the solid branches pushing her along gently so that she was outside the tangle within two steps. Whirling, Neve drew her arm back as if she were sighting a bow and magic flooded into her fingertips, creating a sharp fragment of magic. When she released it, the fragment sprang forward like an arrow straight through a gap in the tangle of thrashing roots. The demon within cried out, a sharp shrill sound, indicating a successful hit.

A sudden burst of black fire exploded out of the tangle of roots, destroying them immediately and revealing a very angry looking Desire demon, black blood dripping down the center of her chest between the vale of her breasts from the magical projectile Neve had cast. The demon locked eyes with her, floating in the air effortlessly and suddenly shot a cone of ice straight at Neve. She lifted her hands with a small, terrified scream, a curtain of roots springing up to her defense. Licks of cold slithered through the hastily constructed wall, chilling Neve to the bone but she did not stop moving. She passed a hand over her face in a quick motion and just as suddenly disappeared from view, becoming little more than an indecipherable haze that blended into the rippling current of the Fade. No sooner did she run out from behind her shelter than the demon send another blast of flames, charring the roots to ash. When the demon didn't see Neve standing behind her construct, she screeched in outrage.

Neve clapped her hands to her ears, falling to her knees mid-run and helplessly fell to the cracked earth, her head pounding beyond tolerance.

"I may not be able to see you," The demon hissed, throwing its head back and forth in an effort to locate Neve. "But I can smell your fear! Come my little morsel, reveal yourself and let us talk. We have no need to fight, you and I."

She closed herself off to the inviting tone inlaid with so much seductive promise, squeezing her eyes shut briefly. The demon wasn't coming straight for her, but it was heading in her general direction. With trembling hands, Neve managed to push herself up to her knees, calming her mind. Again she drew her hands back like she would a bow, sighting the demon and inhaled slowly, her strength gathering to her. The second she let the arrow fly her illusion disappeared, but the magical fragment hit the Desire demon square in the chest, impacting with a small explosion of pollen-like dust. The demon twisted, screeching and clawing at her face, trying to wipe away the dust.

Neve quickly got to her feet, her hands forming claws as she ripped them up through the very fabric of the fade, summoning another torrent of roots and razor-sharp rocks that sliced through the struggling Desire demon. Her scream was ear-piercing but drowned out by the crash of shifting dirt and rocks slithering and banging against one another. Neve stood panting, sweat pouring off her face and feeling weak in the knees from using so much magic all at once. The demon twitched from inside her cage of stone and roots, black blood pouring down.

"Finish her off!" Maura called from the edge of the battlefield, the runes surrounding her pulsing with a steady white glow. She seemed to be immobilized by the effort of maintaining the ring of runes, for she had not moved the entire battle.

Neve nodded tiredly, raising her hands again and the roots slithered as if alive. A sickening crunching sound came from the tangle of roots and the blood gushed out from the tight wad that Neve had encased the Desire demon in. With a last flick of her hands, the roots tore apart, falling back to the ground and leaving little more than a bloody black mess where the demon had been before.

Casting off her glowing ring, Maura strode forward and caught Neve by the arm when she threatened to collapse, touching her forehead and siphoning off a little of her own power into the tired woman. "That was an amazing display." She said quietly, steadying Neve when she made to pull away. "Derik will be glad to know that you can hold your own against your demons."

"And you?" Neve asked, waving her hand at the small Spirit that was still hanging around, a note of petulance creeping into her voice. "Does he know about that thing?"

She nodded and a small smile twitched up the corners of her lips. "Of course. Derik has a way of finding out things that you'd rather not want him to know."

Neve snorted and took a step back, standing on her own two feet and once more constructed her bubble of tranquility, unable to bear the sight of the mutilated and shredded body of the demon that had been plaguing her dreams for months on end. "And he lets you keep it? Fool. Spirits might seem nice, but there are no creatures of the Fade that are entirely safe."

"I am aware." Maura replied in a mild tone, but did not react otherwise. "And so is Derik. But now that you're free of your demon, I need to see what it is that they did to you during that blood ritual."

Neve touched the underside of her right arm instinctively, taking another step back. "I don't know what they did. I don't understand how the ritual works or what they did to me."

"I know, don't panic, Neve." Maura said in a gentle tone, holding out her empty hands in a calming motion. "I chose to become a blood mage, a choice that I will have to live with and regret for the rest of my life, but I was held captive briefly by a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium. I realized in the fight with my own demon and in the Magister's... _care_... that blood magic isn't only a means of destruction and subjugation. It can also be used as a means of instantaneous information transfer."

Neve's eyebrows nearly disappeared up into her hairline at hearing that, clutching her arms tighter to herself. "I... think I know what you mean. During the ritual... when he was... Well, I felt him inside my head. When I woke up after Derik rescued me, I just _knew_ things... Things that I wasn't supposed to know. Like how to control these." She lifted her arms helplessly, the runes on the undersides itching after the use of so much magic.

"That is probably part of the ritual." Maura agreed quietly. "Through the use of the tattoos and blood, they probably pass on knowledge of their craft to initiates. Those that survive and are not immediately transformed into abominations become part of the fold. It's fast, though messy and extremely reckless."

"That sounds about right." Neve hugged herself tightly, biting at her bottom lip. "Is there any way to undo it?" She hated the runes that marked her arms, hated the whispering of power that surfaced every time she reached for her magic. She didn't even care that Maura was seeing her for the weak scared thing she really was behind her mask of bravado and sexual allure. She just wanted her life back.

Maura considered the question for a moment. "I honestly don't know." She replied sadly, lifting her hands in a futile gesture. "Perhaps you already know the answer and you just have to sort through whatever information was given to you during the ritual. Maybe Derik or one of the other Collective mages will be able to figure it out. But as far as I know, there is no way to go back once you have become a blood mage." Hesitantly she tugged off the glove on her right hand and held her palm up, showing Neve the network of silvery scars. "The marks you make in your most desperate moments haunt you for the rest of your life, and that is a burden that you must bear. You may be innocent of the choice, but the demons that are attracted to the dark magic don't care one way or the other. They will plague you, and as long as you stay strong as you were tonight, then they will have no chance to sway you. All the same, it is a dangerous path."

Again she felt traitorous tears pricking at the back of her eyes and hastily blinked them away. "I see." There was no hope for her, then. She would bear the brand of the damned forever. "Thanks, I guess."

Maura took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Derik believes in you." She said quietly and gave her a gentle squeeze. "And so do I. Wherever your path leads, I think that you can handle it, Neve."

A bitter laugh left her, but Neve did not retreat from the small show of amity. "I have little choice but to make due."

"Indeed." Maura let her hand drop and glanced briefly at the small spirit sitting on her shoulder. "Dawn nears, and Derik is probably tired of waiting for us. I'll see you in the morning. Enjoy the rest of your dream." With a smile, Maura simply stepped backwards out of Neve's realm and out into the Raw Fade, disappearing almost instantly with only a small ripple to mark her passage.

The second she was sure that Maura was gone, Neve collapsed on the ground, drew her knees up to her chest and let herself have a long hard cry.

* * *

M'kay, so, for this story I made up two new specializations as well as a new "collection" of spells specifically made for Wilders. I kept the new spells in keeping with the Origins/Awakening spirit with only four per section vs. the crazy way that DA2 has them made up (I like DA2 talent trees personally, but that may be just me). Derik has already used almost all of his talents from his extra specialization, what I'm calling the "Blood Hound", though they're basically just more powerful Templar spells aimed specifically at blood mages. Neve's Wilder spells are obviously very different from the typical spell list from Origins, sort of like a mix between the Keeper and Force Mage specializations a little kind of lol. Anyway, see you again next chapter, which will officially end our up close and personal contact with cameos from _Heirs of Honor._


	7. Clinging to the Past

"May I have a word with you?"

Neve looked up from her patchwork at Maura with a hesitant sort of glance. She was in the middle of mending a tear in the sleeve of one of her shirts, but set it aside when it looked like Maura was planning something. "I guess." Curiosity got her to her feet, and she followed Maura out the front door of the house.

The rogue mage had hidden herself in a long concealing cloak with a deep hood that when drawn up would shadow her face. Neve wasn't entirely sure why the disguise was necessary if Maura and Derik were just going to go retrieve the mage woman's missing lover, but she hadn't bothered to question. Derik was having a hard enough time dealing with the meet today, even if he refused to show it. She could pry into the issue later when the wound was a little less fresh.

Once outside Maura turned toward Neve and waited patiently until the door was closed before speaking. "Derik is a good man." She said quietly, her expression curiously neutral.

Neve blinked at the statement, folding her arms. "He's a good fellow, I suppose. A little on the quirky side, but he's got his good points. What brought on this sudden urge to tell me the obvious?"

Maura frowned at Neve's careless quipping but continued anyway. "Look after him while you travel together. He has faith in you. Do not betray it, or you will regret it."

Sudden anger welled up Neve, and she couldn't stop her indignation from manifesting. "Or what? You'll come track me down in the Fade with that little bird of yours if I don't meet the Templar's standards?" She sneered without giving pause to consider whom exactly it was she was giving sass to.

Maura shook her head, ignoring the bait completely. "I will have to do nothing of the sort. Regretting letting someone down that you care about is a self-inflicted torture. You'll do all my work for me." She gazed at some distant point on the horizon, a profound sadness crossing her face. "Keep a weather eye on the skies, and be careful. There are more dangerous things than demons on the path that Derik walks. If you choose to walk with him, you'll have to be wary of falling into the hidden traps along the way."

The offered bit of advice cloaked in metaphor did nothing to sate Neve's temper, but she did bite back on a snappy retort that might have earned her a lightning bolt to the face. "I consider myself warned, then."

Maura smiled in return, her expression hollow, and flipped up the deep cowl of her cloak, turning when Derik exited the house in his full armor. He looked between the two women, a curious look on his face. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all." Maura replied cheerfully and adjusted the bow on her shoulder. "Let's be off."

"See you in a few hours, Neve. Try not to cause Talia too much trouble." He grinned and waved, turning and leaving with Maura.

* * *

_My Maker, know my heart  
Take from me a life of sorrow  
Lift me from a world of pain  
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride  
_Transfigurations 12:3

* * *

"I think I finally figured it out." Maura opened Derik's journal to a collection of pages she had inserted herself, the loose sheets of vellum full of writing in her neat flowing cursive cultivated by years of study and note taking in the Circle of Magi.

It had been a few days since Derik's arrival with Neve in tow, and now they were all headed their separate ways. Maura and Aedan had been reunited as planned, the noble-turned-Grey Warden handling the situation with a remarkable amount of calmness, for which Derik was grateful. Before he'd left Ferelden, Aedan had been a swordsman to be reckoned with. Joining the Grey had only made him more fierce and intimidating as a warrior, and Derik seriously doubted that if Aedan wanted revenge for the three years he had been left in the dark that he could fight and win against the Warden.

Currently the man was quietly playing with Glynn outside, waiting for Maura to divulge her discoveries to Derik before they left. The reunited family was heading to Highever, and Derik and Neve were going to be heading south for Dragon's Peak. In all likelihood, this was the last that Derik and Maura would see of each other ever again.

"This circle is composed of two different rune circles, one inside the other. That's what made it so hard to decipher. But once I broke down the rings, it all became much easier to see." She turned over the insert, on the back of which were drawn two separate rings that had made up the elements of the larger whole. "This one here, the smaller one," she tapped the page of the indicated ring "Is a retroactive containment charm. It's used when we do summoning arts in the Tower. Anything summoned inside of it can't escape until the maker of the circle disrupts it. That way, nothing dangerous escapes if a student accidentally summons a firestorm or a bronto or something.

"This circle," she tapped the second smaller one on the page, "is a binding circle. I've only ever read about this, and I've never actually seen it performed. It is usually used to bind spells to objects for enchanting, but it has been corrupted. I think that if I'm reading the corrupted lines right, then the mages that created this circle were attempting to put the souls of the dead into still-living people."

"How is that even possible?" Derik asked, looking at the two circles side by side more critically. "Once a soul passes into the Void, it cannot be recalled. And furthermore, what purpose could it possibly serve?"

"That I have no answers for." Maura replied and closed the journal, handing it back to Derik. "If I have a revelation, I'll try and get the message to you through Neve in a dream. Fortitude knows her now, and should be able to track her as long as we're both asleep. Time and distance mean very little in the Fade to a spirit."

"A fact I know very well." Derik agreed absently, still looking at the journal. Finally he pried his eyes away from the cover and tore his thoughts away from the implications that the rings could serve when combined. "Thank you for your help. I'll miss you, Maura."

"I'll miss you too." She replied with a small smile and hugged him briefly.

"If you ever get into trouble, you know how to reach me." Derik said in a low undertone, letting Maura go reluctantly.

"I know." She replied in an equally soft tone. "Thank you for looking out for me and Glynn. I owe you so much… we all do."

His smile was only a little forced when it came. "Just remember if I'm ever passing through Orlais to leave your door open for me."

"We will." The promise was given without hesitation. Looking over her shoulder at Aedan and her son, Maura's face softened and she turned back to Derik briefly. "We'll go now. Good luck in your travels. I'll pray that the Maker keeps his eye on you."

"And I will do the same for you."

Neve came out of her room once she was sure that Aedan and Maura were gone, walking up behind Derik and put a hand on his elbow gently. "I am no Maura." She said quietly, looking up at Derik through her lashes, a measure of sadness in her voice. "But I can help you."

Derik looked down at her, a mildly confused look on his face. "What do you mean?"

Gently she took his hand and tugged until he followed, stepping outside of the small house away from the door and pulled Derik close, pressing her back against the wall. "I can give you what you desire most, if only for a little while." She whispered, a small trickle of her magic slipping out almost unconsciously as she put his hands to her waist.

Derik's expression was pained and he removed his hands, placing his palms flat against the wall behind her instead. "No, Neve that's not…"

"Let me help you." She said in a breathy whisper, rising up on the tips of her toes and hooked her finger under the thick material of his shirt to pull him forward. "…as you have helped me."

Derik's expression was briefly longing, and for that fleeting second she thought he would give in. However, his implacable resolve that lay so close to the surface suddenly roared to life, showing its fangs. "Than you for the offer." He said in a tone that was frosty enough to send a shiver down her spine. Derik removed her hand and took a definitive step back. "But this is an issue I will resolve on my own. _Without_ the help of blood magic."

The rejection didn't sting so much as the look he gave her before turning to leave, one that made Neve feel like a fly pinned to a wall. Like she was something small and dirty, that she had crossed a line. For not the first time, she felt as if something had crawled inside her body and was blackening her from the inside out, staining her beyond repair. Hugging her arms to her chest, Neve dipped her head and slipped down the side of the house into a sitting position, wondering once more how she could possibly continue now that she had been marked as a Maleficar.

After she had collected herself, Neve paced back into the house with even steps to collect her things, ignoring Derik and Talia as they said their goodbyes. When she came back out Derik was equipping himself with his armor in the methodical manner he had and the two deliberately refused to look at each other.

Looking for anything at all to ease the awkwardness, Neve spotted the journal that Derik was always scribbling in and turned to a random page, coming upon the loose leafs that Maura had inserted moments ago. Her fingers traced the markings of the two separate circles, frowning. "Why are you trying to summon demons?"

Derik looked up sharply at that, startled by the sudden question and paused in the middle of tightening his sword harness. "Summon demons? What do you mean?"

"This here." She tapped the smaller of the two circles on the page. "It's a circle for summoning demons. It helps make a small hole in the Veil, just enough to allow a single entity through."

"How do you know this?" Derik asked quietly, looking at Neve with the intensity of a hawk spotting prey.

She blinked and looked at him in return, a confused expression on her face. "I don't know." She replied and noted that Derik looked like he was about to give her the grilling of her life. A thought occurred to her and she suddenly perked up, interrupting Derik before he could begin in on her. "I don't know!" She exclaimed unhelpfully, but was grinning. "Which means I do know! It must be part of the knowledge I received from my_ benefactor_ during my initiation."

Derik was silent for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Came her heartfelt reply. "I would never have known something like this from before. Like I said; I run from demons, not look to invite them over to the house for tea."

Derik snapped his mouth closed at that, looking at the circle in his journal once more though seemed no less relieved to finally know the real purpose behind the mystery circle and finished tightening his harness. "Well, that clears some things up, but it brings up an entirely different issue. I found this circle in the Brecilian forest a few weeks ago, before I found you in Denerim." He flipped to the page with the original circle, letting Neve see it and instantly her eyes went wide.

"You found that?" She whispered, suddenly trembling. "Was there anyone there?"

"No, only a lot of dried blood and a rage demon that had been trapped behind the Veil." Derik replied, watching her reaction carefully.

Neve reached out and touched the page lightly, her fingers trembling. "I know what this is. Derik, they tried to _make_ mages. They thought that if they put a demon or a spirit inside a normal person, that they would be able to cast magic."

He let out a breath, closing his eyes briefly. "They aren't just recruiting to their fold. They're trying to create it from scratch."

"Not all of the Midnight Tang are mages." She supplied in a quiet voice, shifting uncomfortably under his intense gaze, though kept her eyes on the circle. "Most of them are regular people, trained as assassins the normal way. There are very few mages outside of the Chantry that they can abduct or recruit, and even fewer survive initiation. They were trying to bolster their power and their numbers."

"But for what reason?" Derik asked, shaking his head and looking up at Neve. "If they're really trying to make mages by creating abominations, then what is the end purpose? If this process actually works, they would have access to an unlimited number of abominations at their behest. The law would never know the difference between normal kidnappings, and ones that were staged by the Tang for recruitment. Furthermore, how do they possibly think that they can control any abominations they create?" Derik was musing out loud, not expecting Neve to really answer and tapped his fingers to his lips thoughtfully, flipping through his journal. "Demons that get access to the mortal realm are notoriously insane. Something about controlling a mortal body drives them to recklessly kill anything within sight, often disregarding their own weaknesses as creatures of flesh. I don't understand what they could possibly hope to gain..."

"Unless it's just chaos that they want." Neve mumbled, leaning against Derik's shoulder despite their earlier tension, her gaze gone hazy. "I feel like I should know what this is all about but… It's just out of my reach. There are only fragments there where a whole piece should be."

"That might be my fault." Derik admitted quietly. "I interrupted your initiation. You simply might not have had time to learn everything there was to learn by the time I came in and killed the man with you."

She shuddered at the memory and blinked several times, rubbing her arms as if chilled. "And I'm glad. I can't stand the thought of that man doing anything else to me."

Derik was silent for a moment, still thinking. "This complicates matters. The Templars know that there is some sort of cabal in the Brecilian running rampant and unchecked. I was sent to investigate and end the cabal by the Order, and the Midnight Tang base by the Collective. I had thought that the two were separate circumstances, but knowing that the issues are linked makes handling this situation trickier. I had hoped to solve the matter of the Midnight Tang on my own without getting the Order involved, but I'm not sure if this can be handled so easily now."

"I'll help." Neve volunteered immediately with a strength of conviction in her tone that Derik was unaware she could possess. "After everything that those bastards have done to me, my sister and all the other initiates… they deserve some payback. If you're trying to wreck their plans, I want to help."

He hesitated, unsure if allowing Neve to tag along was the wisest move. "There is going to be nothing safe about this. I don't know if walking down this path is a trap or not, and I may not be able to protect you from whatever we come up against."

"Don't worry about me." She flicked her hand casually, as if the issue bore no further thought. "I can handle myself well enough. You just worry about your own skin, Templar." Neve grinned and Derik smiled back, and it seemed as if all sins had been forgiven. For the moment.

* * *

So, this marks the last chapter that "_Heirs of Honor_" characters will be directly appearing in. On to fun and exciting things involving demon summoning! I like mixing information that was given in DA2 with the Origins setting. I think it's fun. Summoning demons into normal people is just another one of those fun little things that I decided to take advantage of. Anyway, hope you liked the personal drama poor Derik and Neve get to deal with. See ya'll next chapter.


	8. The Templar's Road

Neve was rocking back on her heels, hands clasped behind her back and waited with relative patience as Derik talked to a hooded man, the two of them conversing quietly outside of the rural bannorn settlement they had stayed the night in with more of Derik's "friends". She continued to be surprised time and again by how many people owed the Templar a debt of gratitude, and even more surprised that the only favor in return that he ever asked was a roof for a night as he passed through the area. He had explained to her once that he couldn't in good conscience ask for anything more simply for doing a job that should have been done by someone else in the first place.

Now they had tracked down an informant, Derik seemed to be hot on the trail of some new lead. She could see the eagerness to start the hunt on his face, and it was at times like this she could really believe he was a Templar. He might see the grey area a little better when it came to mages, but he still had the relentless fervor of any of the faithful. A true Andrastian to the core…

Derik and the informant said their goodbyes and he returned to Neve's side, guiding her away from the area with a casual touch to her elbow. "We have a destination."

"Finally. You two were chatting up a storm over there." Neve sighed, following along a half step behind Derik. "I thought I was going to die of boredom."

Derik shot her an amused look over his shoulder. "I can promise you won't be bored when we get there. The informant told me that a small gathering was happening tonight in once of the deserted hill forests nearby. The Midnight Tang chapter in this region are having a little chit chat about something big, and I intend to find out what."

"How?" Neve turned skeptical immediately, eying his armor. He didn't wear full plate and a skirt like most Templars. His armor was lighter and built for traveling with a more practical chain shirt and sturdy boots that were caked in road dust. However, there was still a lot of metal involved in his getup and he clattered a bit when he walked. "Unless they also happen to be deaf…"

"You let me worry about that." He replied with an easy grin. "This isn't my first time, you know. I've been at it for a few years."

She rolled her eyes. "If you say so. But if you make me drag you out by your ear because you're too injured to do it yourself, I'll have an "_I told you So"_ song waiting at the end."

He laughed at that. "As amusing as that sounds, I don't think I'll need to hear it. Thank you for the offer anyway."

She huffed an irritated sigh, eyeing Derik for any weakness and finally relented. "Fine. So what's the plan?"

The plan turned out to be staking out the area of the meet and hiding in the bushes waiting for the conspiring mages to get together. When Derik found out that Neve could control their environment to an extent, he had her make a screen out of a thicket where they could watch the goings on without being seen in return. After that, Neve spent a few hours being bored out of her mind. Derik had his ever-present journal and was scribbling away in it to pass the time. Mercifully he had lent her a small knife and she was whittling idly at a chunk of wood to alleviate some of her boredom. She finished of a carving of a small bird in flight, examined the totem for a little while, and set it aside. She looked around their enclosure, debating whether or not to pick up another project when they heard a sound.

Derik stilled, setting aside his journal with the rest of his gear and listened for the noise to come again. Neve went still as well, turning her head to try and catch the sound too. They heard the footsteps then, several pairs coming from all different directions. The meeting had started.

Through the tangle of underbrush Derik could see two of the conspirators walking right past them toward the center of the glade they had set up by. Derik didn't move so much as a muscle, and felt more than saw Neve do the same, slipping into huntress mode with the assassins targeted as prey. It was a few moments before all of them had gathered together, five in all. They wore a collection of outfits ranging from full leather armor to cloaks and plain clothes, but each of them had a small embellishment at their throat shaped as a thin rapier-like weapon enclosed in a hollow circle, marking themselves as members of the Midnight Tang.

"Are the preparations complete?" One of the men cloaked in head to toe leathers asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"Denerim stands ready." Another man replied in a high thin voice. "We simply await the command."

"Then give it." A third said, this man appearing as a normal merchant save for the pendant at his throat. "We should strike now. There will be no better time."

"I agree." Said the man in full leathers. "Once the Grand Cleric is dead, all else will fall into place."

"The Templars will barely be able to function without their Mother to guide them." A fourth man, this one in half leather and wearing a cloak with a deep cowl said. "In the chaos, all our plans will come to fruition."

"One step at a time." The first growled in a menacing undertone. "This has to work first. The rituals haven't been as successful as we would have hoped. The Master is displeased with your attempts."

The hooded man sniffed in disdain. "The Master can try it himself then. We have done all we can do to improve the ritual's effectiveness. There is simply little else we can do but try to collect as many vessels as possible."

"An easy enough task." The fully cloaked one said. "No one misses elves and beggars."

"Then let us part." The fifth man, silent until this point finally spoke up. "I have been itching with unease this whole time. I do not think it is safe to linger any longer."

The others in the grove went completely silent for a moment. Suddenly there was a tidal wave of searing mental pain that blasted the entire area, and Derik would have fallen straight to the ground under the assault if he were not already kneeling. Neve cried out in pain, clutching her head against the force of the sudden attack and completely collapsed.

"We have been watched!" The one in full leather yelled. "Get to your men and enact the plan immediately!" He yelled at the thin-voiced man. "The rest of you stay with me and finish these two off!"

The remaining four jumped immediately to action, rushing the small bramble that Derik and Neve had hidden in. Derik was on his feet in the next second, drawing both his swords. "Neve, clear my path." Though she did not rise from the ground, she nodded and the bramble in front of Derik parted like a thorny curtain.

The second he stepped out of the meager protection, a ball of frost arced toward him. The projectile splashed against his armor, rolling off like water and seeming to leave Derik no worse for the wear. Power almost visibly clung to him shortly before a concussive blast ripped through the grove, blasting through the air and visibly striking the five in front of him. Two of the men fell to the ground with pained cries, obviously hurt while the other two staggered, reflexively shielding their ears against the pressure of the Smite.

Derik dashed for the closest one, his swords moving in graceful twin arcs that sent the man in full leather spinning sideways under the force of the blow. Blood sprayed out of the fresh wounds in a fine mist, splattering across the front of the hooded man, who had advanced to help, dual daggers drawn.

Derik lifted his swords for a block and parry but was caught off guard when something whizzed past his ear, nearly striking him from behind. The projectile collided with the hooded man's chest, sending him staggering backwards. Derik snapped his head around and saw Neve drawing her arm back as if preparing an arrow, magic swirling to the tips of her fingers and crystallizing into an opaque knife-like shard. In the next blink of an eye she'd let the magic loose and it hit the stumbling hooded man in the neck, severing straight through and leaving him reeling and desperately trying to claw his severed windpipe back together again.

The man in the leather armor recovered, holding his wounds with one hand and attacked Derik with the other, his short sword whistling through the air. The Templar met his strike with a solid block, absorbing the strength behind the blow and turned his blades, ramming his shoulder into the armored man and forcing him to stagger backwards. Two more magic projectiles whistled out of the air and struck him as he tried to recover, one exploding across the front of his chest in a shower of yellow dust that clung to his face and open wounds.

Later, once they'd survived this, he was going to thank Neve for the distractions and carefully ask whom exactly it was that she had been aiming for. He plunged one blade through the rent in the man's armor he had made earlier, twisting and withdrawing with a flourish. Derik turned to see two bolts of lightning coming straight for him and ducked, a wave of anti-magic bursting forth in just enough time to lessen the effects of the spells. Electricity arced along his armor, sparking off the metal of his plate and leaving Derik with the taste of copper on the back of his tongue.

The mages remaining had recovered somewhat from the Smite but their attacks were still weak. From behind Derik, Neve shot off a few more projectiles, missing her first shot but catching the man in the trader's clothes by the shoulder on the second. With a target marked, Derik followed up on the arrows, pausing just long enough to let two more fly in front of him at a comfortable distance before he struck. The man stood no chance as Derik's swords ripped through him.

The fourth man, seeing he was far outmatched tried to make a run for it with Derik hot on his heels. The ground in front of the two suddenly erupted, a cage of twisted roots and shards of rock caging in the two. The mage ran straight into the other side, unable to stop in time to avoid the collision. Derik almost ran straight into the mage as well and had to throw himself sideways in order not to receive a lightning bolt to the face. As it was, the strike caught him in the shoulder, zapping through his body like a whip of white hot pain.

The shock of it had him unable to breath for a painful moment, enough time for the mage to recover fully from his sudden run in with the roots. The runes carved into the underside of the man's arms flared to life as he backed up a step, a heavy wave of magic infusing the space until it was hard to breathe or think.

Struggling to resist the call of the magic, Derik began reciting under his breath, drawing in pained gulps of air through the after effects of the severe shock he'd received.

"Give in, Templar." The mage muttered in a low smooth voice, a spell gathering around his right fist. "You know that you are tired. Weary of all the fighting. Sleep now. Rest."

His limbs grew heavier under the compulsion against his will. Derik grit his teeth, refusing to be swayed by the magic and readjusted his grip on his blades to try one last attack before the magic took complete control of his mind.

Suddenly, out of the root wall that surrounded them, Neve appeared. She glided through the tangle of rocks, arm drawn back with a spell on her fingertips. The second she sighted the mage she let the projectile fly and it struck him in the shoulder. Without pausing she leaped across the space, grabbing Derik by the arm and dragged him through the opposite side of the ring. The second that the two of them cleared the ring, the roots and vines went into a frenzy as if they were alive.

Neve dragged Derik clear of the ring and stopped a few feet away, keeping her back turned. The screams of the man inside the ring filled the forest for a long painful moment, accompanied by the slither of the roots, the grind of the rocks and the ripping of flesh and splatter of blood. The silence that came next was sudden and abrupt, the roots stilling and slithering back into the ground from whence they came. Only the dismembered bloody corpse of the mage and upset mounds of dirt were left in the wake of the magically possessed roots.

Derik watched silently for a moment, catching his breath before turning to look at Neve. "Well, that went better than I-" He stopped dead mid-sentence. Neve was trembling, her face pale as a ghost and looked as if she were about to be sick. "Neve? Are you all right?" He reached out to touch her and she slapped his hand away violently, whirling on him with sudden anger.

"Don't touch me!" She hissed and backed away a step, hugging herself. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Don't touch me while you're covered in blood."

Derik looked down at himself, realizing how it was that Neve must be seeing him. The front of his armor was splattered with blood, charred in three places by lightning strike spells. He was sure that he had blood on his face and in his hair as well, painting a picture of a bloodied warrior. A casual scratch of his cheek confirmed the blood on his face, the tips of his leather gloves coming back wet. "It's just blood. I don't understand."

"Of course you don't!" She bit the words out harshly, the first of her tears escaping. "You're a Templar. This is what you do." She pointed furiously at the bodies lying around the clearing. "You kill people." Her clarification stung more than Derik thought they would and he was put to silence in the face of Neve's sudden anger.

"But this- This isn't me." She continued. "I don't kill people. I hate blood. I've never killed a person in my life, and now I've killed four." Her voice was trailing off into a wail, the distress she was experiencing clear on her face. "What did they do to me?"

Derik almost reached out to comfort her, but jerked his hand back before he could, remembering the slap he'd received earlier. "I don't know." He replied honestly, keeping his distance. "I wish I had answers for you Neve, but I don't and I have an emergency on my hands now."

He paused for a moment and waited until Neve would meet his gaze before continuing. "I want to help you, Neve, but I don't want to put you in danger. This is my life and what you signed up for when you volunteered to come along. We can talk about this and I can try to help you make sense of it, but right now we need to move. If the Midnight Tang succeeds in assassinating the Grand Cleric, everything will be undone. They're under the illusion that the Templars would idly stand by unable to act, but I know better. Knight-Captain Quinn would take charge until Knight-Commander Greagoir could step up, and neither man would act with a gentle hand. There would be blood in the streets with the military arm acting on its own."

Neve shook her head, squeezing her arms. "Let's just go. I don't want to talk about it." She walked forward, deliberately not looking at the bodies of the dead men and keeping a fair distance from Derik as well.

He pulled a cleaning cloth from his belt and quickly gave his two swords a quick rub off before sliding them home in their sheathes. Without a word he took the lead and Neve fell into step behind him.

* * *

_The one who repents, who has faith,  
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,  
She shall know true peace._

Transfigurations 10:1

* * *

Derik was cleaning his armor methodically, checking all the rings and attach points for rust and scraping off all the dried blood. He had marched until it had become too dark and dangerous to continue traveling and set up a fire to see by and get his armor clean. Neve had coaxed a few pine boughs into a shelter and immediately disappeared under them without saying a word to Derik. He left her alone, trusting that when she wanted to, she would talk.

He didn't have to wait very long before Neve's voice floated to him from the safety of the pine boughs. "What was it like the first time you killed someone?"

Derik paused in his work, looking up to see if he could catch sight of Neve, but she remained firmly hidden. "Terrifying." He replied in a deadpan tone. "The Order taught me how to kill a man, they did not tell me how to deal with the guilt afterwards. I had to figure that out on my own."

There was silence for a long time, then the pine boughs relaxed from the unnatural position like a blooming flower with Neve emerging from the center of it. She walked to the edge of the fire and sat down with her arms hugging her knees. "What did you do?"

"I was violently sick." Derik replied with stark honestly, glancing at Neve before returning to his work. "When I was still an apprentice, I wasn't the hardened Templar you know now. My ears were full of the Maker's grace and my heart was soft and timid. I wasn't ready for my first mission. I had the skills, but not the stomach for it. I didn't figure that out until a drunken father who wanted to keep his mage son tried his hand at murder. I gutted him, more of an accident than on purpose."

"How did you get over it?" Neve asked quietly, enthralled with the story as much as she identified with it. "Killing that man, I mean."

"I didn't. My commander reprimanded me for it, but it was just a slap on the wrist. It is illegal to harbor mages, and assaulting a Templar, even a half-baked apprentice, is a serious crime" Derik replied and finished with his armor, stacking it neatly beside him and met Neve's eyes. "Killing that man ate me from the inside, and I had no one to turn to. My peers were impressed that I'd killed a man, and my superiors were numb to taking lives.

"The next time that I went out on a mission I hesitated when I shouldn't have. At the time I was apprenticed to Knight-Captain Quinn, but back then he was just a lieutenant. It was another routine assignment, made less routine when the child we were collecting turned out to be a boy almost as old as I was. It was also my first run in with a blood mage, and I proved easily susceptible to mind control. That event almost ended my career as a Templar, but somehow I managed to snap out of the enthrallment before Quinn had to deal with me himself." Derik recited the facts as if they were ancient history with little inflection to his tone, steadily meeting Neve's gaze.

"Did you kill the boy?" She asked.

"No." Derik drew a small breath. "I desperately wanted to, believe me. I was angry that I'd fallen so easily to the manipulation, and I wanted to take it out on the boy. But Quinn dealt with him first. That's when I came to the realization that if I didn't act swiftly, they would kill me first. Once it became a matter of survival, the idea of killing someone became easier to deal with. The more blood stained my hands, the less I seemed to notice."

Neve shared a small silence with him, her gaze sliding to stare blankly at the fire. "You don't regret it?"

"I can't afford to." He replied gently. "I comfort myself with knowing that if I don't kill the people I do, they will go on to kill even more people. People like you, who never wanted to be part of this but were dragged in anyway."

Neve closed her eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened to leak out. "Who were you before you were a Templar?"

"Nobody." Derik replied immediately. "I'm an orphan, or so I'm told. It could be that my parents are still alive somewhere and simply did not want me. I'll never know. The Chantry has been my entire life. I know nothing else."

Her scoffing laugh was a harsh noise against the silence of the night. "And yet here you are; wandering around with a blood mage, in love with another man's woman, and trying to save the world from a threat it doesn't even know exists. How do you manage to be such a contradiction?"

Derik leveled a quelling look at her, but Neve looked far from quelled by the simple look. "I have a gift for getting in over my head." He replied in a neutral tone. "And a talent for getting back out again. Who were _you_ before all of this?" He gestured vaguely in the air, indicating their whole situation.

"Nobody of consequence." Neve relied with a small shrug, but was inwardly amused that she could ruffle the unruffable Derik. "I was a hunter's daughter. We lived off the land, traded for what we couldn't find or make ourselves, and got by." Her gaze grew distant once more and she looked again at the fire. "It wasn't a glamorous life we led, and we fell on hard times often. But we were our own law, and I never had to sell myself or kill a man just to ensure I could keep living."

He was drawing together the puzzle pieces now, the enigma that was Neve becoming a little less mysterious. He had wondered how a woman who seemed so street savvy could react so negatively to killing a man, but it all started to make sense to him now. It was a mask she used to keep people at a distance, to keep them from asking questions and to help blend in with city life. The addition of the blood magic curse had only made her dig deeper into the persona until it was the only face she knew how to show. The girl sitting here staring at the fire lamenting having to spill blood was much closer to the heart of her.

"If you wish to continue traveling with me, you may have to kill again." He warned softly, watching her closely. "But I don't expect you to fight my battles for me."

She turned slightly, shooting Derik a small smile. "Thanks, but I'm not sure if I could keep from doing that again if I tried. When you were fighting, I just… needed to kill them. I knew how. I never knew how before." She touched the long scar on the inside of her right arm through her long gloves. "I never _wanted_ to before. But when I saw the blood, it all just flooded into me and I couldn't stop myself."

"Some of the assassin training must have been imparted on you during the ritual." Derik supplied softly. "Seeing blood is probably a trigger to activate your magic. Neve, if I get into a fight and you feel like you can't stop even if you want to, let me know. My interruption of the ritual may have done something unforeseeable to you."

His words seemed to strike Neve almost physically, and she visibly retreated into herself. "Great, so now there's something _else_ wrong with me?"

"Maybe not." He said quickly before she could have a full on break down and stood, moving so that he could sit next to Neve just within arm's reach. "I meant it when I said that I wanted to help you. Just let me know what's going on, and I'll try and figure something out."

She blinked, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. "I just want to go home." The admission was made in a strained whisper and Neve leaned against his shoulder. He put his arm around her and she turned her face against his chest, clinging to the front of his shirt with one hand.

"We'll figure this out." He murmured, rubbing her back gently. "I'll get you home, one way or another. I promise." She nodded against his chest, tightening her fingers in his shirt and refused to look up, content to calm herself where Derik couldn't see her tear reddened eyes.

* * *

Gosh, been a while, hasn't it? I've had this chapter finished for ages, but I never got around to reading back through for an edit. Life happened really hard. Been nonstop nonsense since day one, really. Sorry for any mistakes and such... still doing lone edits on this story. Anyway, I have come to the realization that at this rate, I will run out of verses before I run out of chapters. So this means longer chapters for you guys. Yay!


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